Phoenix Sun the Ahri Saga
by Caccus
Summary: The League is under siege. Dark beings from another world have attacked the very heart of Valoran's power. A barrier is erected, separating the Institute from their attackers, but that only traps in the evils already inside with their goal. In order to stop them, one fox must seek out her destiny, locked in the lower depths of the League, and realize her purpose as the Phoenix Sun.
1. Prologue

**Sequel to Dragon Rising the Master Yi Epic here on **

**Please read what started it all first! Everything here will make much more sense.**

* * *

**Prologue**

Rain fell.

Abe no Mei-Kou, a powerful young Sealmaster of the Mei clan, lay nearly still in a slowly cooling puddle of his own blood and mud. The mixture of his blood and the water was soaking into his once-brilliant robes as he sat propped up against a great oak tree. All around him, a thousand corpses soaked in the mud, the aftermath of his small company's first encounter with Noxians. His friends, all so eager to fight the craven enemy, were slaughtered to a man by the battle-hardened Noxians. Still his magic flowed, forming a barrier around him that was supposed to protect him, for all the f*cking good it did now. Yet even now, the blue glow from his inscriptions was starting to flicker and fade. He coughed up some more blood.

He was a fool.

Like the other young men of his age, he was far too eager to rush out to do battle against the invading Noxians. Like the other young men of his age, he thought he was some level of invincible. And soon like the other young men of his village, all close friends or family, he would be dead in this muck. The worst part of it all was that his life, his own f*cking, worthless skin was still worth more than the rest of his entire village's combined, and he had brashly thrown it away like it was nothing more than the skin off a fruit.

He coughed again, and this time, he felt a knife of ice cut into his stomach. He would be gone soon.

_To Grand Sealmaster Mejai… his glorious ancestor…_ Mei-Kou apologized deeply, again and again in his heart, for he had completely and utterly failed.

For his blood, his d*mn hide, was heir to the Key of Phoenix; only the direct male bloodline from his clan could ever break the seal placed by Grandmaster Mejai on the Phoenix Sun… which was the ultimate weapon of magic, and one of two of the necessary keys to destroy the ultimate evil.

Yet, he, the last of his family, the last of his name, would die. He had no bloodline, and he would be left rotting in the ground, leaving the Phoenix Sun to be lost forever. Sh*t. He should have asked out that Nurse's daughter before he left, maybe made a couple of sons. What was that girl's name, even? Something that started with an A. Ahri? Hell. He couldn't even manage to remember that beautiful girl's name. He would have wept bitterly if he had the strength. But the Sealmaster could only lie back, and close his eyes in defeat.

"Kon?" Something chirped.

Mei-Kou opened his eyes. A beautiful white fox had happened upon his almost-corpse. The fox seemed to be drawn by the blue light of his barrier. The creature was curiously sniffing at Mei-Kou's limp, clammy hand.

Mei-Kou tried to lift his hand to pet the beast, but he had not the strength anymore. He gave the fox a ghost of a smile, to perhaps comfort the poor creature in such a field of death.

The fox seemed to get bored, and was starting to move away. Mei-Kou felt that sadness and darkness overwhelm him once more.

But then… in his greatest despair… he had an idea.

_W….wait!_ Mei-Kou thought desperately. He reached out with his mind to tag the fox, and incredibly, the fox drew back to Mei-Kou.

_Please work!_

He willed his magic to overtake the fox. Invisibly, his magical signature, and the honor of being of the Bloodline of the Grand Sealmaster Mejai overwhelmed and fused with but an ordinary fox. Confused, the white fox chirped again, and whined a bit, rolling about. She was beginning to change. Mei-Kou felt a spurt of triumph even as his life slipped away into the darkness. The color of the world was growing dim and gray. His insides felt as if they were doused in ice. He could feel death creep up his body, and he could feel the flow of blood from his puncture wound in his side start to slow, as there was no more blood to bleed.

_You will carry on my bloodline... forgive me..._

He thought that would be the end, yet as he died, he saw the form of a beautiful woman take shape. He could only see her silhouette as he finally left the world, but an insane, ridiculous last thought intruded on his fading mind.

_She looks like the nurse's dau…g…h_

* * *

**A shout-out to Killing Edge in this Prologue. I really think his Ahri's origin story is great, so I made my prologue fit in with his. Check out "Merciless" for more.**

**Cover art done by Deviant Art member Chezoo, and clumsily edited by me. Chezoo graciously let me use his image as base for my cover of this FF, and I'm paying back the favor by telling you all to f***ing go check out his profile page now! He has some amazing digitally reworked art of our favorite League Champions, and you should go search his name. Now.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Of all magic, there are four schools. Invocation, Augmentation, Manipulation, and Spatial."

Zilean turned to face the crowd of purple caster minions that was cowering in front of him. He stood solemnly on the blasted rocks of the Proving Grounds, gathering himself for his demonstration. Though the wizened, bearded old man seemed frail, even tiny against the enormous clock he kept perennially strapped to his back, his power was unmistakable. There was perhaps no one within the League that was more knowledgeable in the arts of magic than he was.

At the very least, no one that would not have attempted to blast Ahri into ash just for asking for some tips.

The aged man stepped forwards on the destroyed, blasted bridge that was the Proving Grounds. The stone causeway hung perilously over a bottomless abyss; the only light radiated from the glowing scepters of the turrets mounted along the center of the bridge, and the deep, softer glow of the Institute of War behind them,

"First, the most destructive and basic of all magic, Inovcation."  
Zilean stepped back, and swept his hands outwards, gathering magic at his fingertips. For a moment, he floated, and the light about him twisted and churned like paint on a palette. The ground started to shake with the concentrated energy. A light started to glow in the palms of his hands. The Chronokeeper took a deep breath.

"_Un'dah!_" Zilean thrust his hands forwards, sending the magic racing at the minions.  
A shockwave of blue magic thundered in front of him, rippling against the hapless crowd of minions, sending them scattering about like leaves in a gale of wind.  
"Phew…" Zilean fell back to the ground, panting a bit, to the screams of purple caster minions. "Invocation is the art of projecting magic into the world around you and directly affecting it. You know several mages who are mostly Invokers on the Fields of Justice. Annie Hastur is one of them. Ryze is a rather famous Invoker as well. You will find that Invokers are a largely destructive, impatient lot. Brand, for a rather obvious example."

"Woah…" Ahri gazed, amazed, as she watched the poor minions fly hundreds of feet off the bridge, and into the night. "Awesome! Teach me that!"

Zilean gave a smile at the praise.  
"I tried my very best there. Every now and then, even shriveled men like me need to show off to girls."  
"Do it again! Again!"  
"Next time, there are still three more schools to learn."

Zilean rolled up his sleeves.

"The second school of magic is the one of self-empowerment, Augmentation."  
With a flick of his wrist, Zilean summoned another minion, this one armed with a spiked club and a shield, a close-combat fighter. Zilean whistled to it. The newly created construct looked about, slightly confused, right up until Zilean walked up to it and punched it with a magically strengthened fist.

"_Ti'em!_" The frail, scrawny old man smashed the minion into the stone rock of the Proving Grounds, as magic radiated off of his fist in short, chaotic bursts. The bare fist punched a hole a foot deep into the solid rock. Ahri immediately gave Zilean a one-fox round of applause.

"Augmenters, or Enhancers as they are sometimes known, are rather rare in the League, because theirs is the art of enhancing their own bodies with magic. You see, few who have the gift of magic chose to engage in close combat with their skills, but you know a couple. The Grandmaster Jax, for one, chooses to enhances himself and his peculiar weapons to great effect. The Noxian General Swain has a rather famous augmentation that transforms him into that giant crow. And there is another one."

"Huh?" Ahri cocked her head. "Who?"  
"Heh. "A small chuckle escaped Zilean. "You. Your Spirit Dash spell is quite the powerful enhancement you put on yourself there, dear. You put many of us dusty old mages to shame."  
Ahri smiled and blushed a bit at the praise. Her tails wagged about happily.

Zilean sighed, and gathered himself again.  
"The last major school of magic is Manipulation. Watch closely."  
Zilean raised his arms, and closed his eyes.  
_"Ah'khan!"_

All about him and Ahri, minions, rocks, and debris floated about them in a giant globe. Ahri looked on in wonder as Zilean manipulated the various objects to perform beautiful and complex motions in the sky. The minions started cheering and laughing as they soared through the air, like so many purple birds in the sky. They started to play tag with their weapons as they zipped back and forth about the proving grounds. It was like a snowglobe of minions.

Then Zilean, exhausted, let up the spell. The minion's cheers turned to pitiful cries as more of them fell into the abyss. The Chronokeeper had to rest on his knees, panting.

"Grandpa!" Ahri rushed to the magus. "You ok?"  
"I'm fine, Dear. It's just that this magic, combined with my illness, tires me a bit."  
Ahri fell silent at this reminder. It was hard to tell sometimes, but all who knew him knows that Zilean was living two lives, with one foot in the present, and one foot in a lost, glorious past, thanks to his chronic, time-magic related illness.  
_It must be so hard, _Ahri thought. But she said nothing as the old man bravely tried to laugh away his fatigue.

Ahri hurriedly changed the subject.

"Hey, don't try and cheat me, old man. There's still one more school."  
"Ah, yes." The Chronokeeper patted his hands on his robes, and stood up straight. "You mean Spatial magic. The rarest and most difficult of all magic."  
Zilean raised his hand, and summoned a minion. The caster popped out of a portal, and started walking about.

"…."

"What?"  
"Is that it?"  
Zilean laughed.  
"All summoners use a weak form of spatial magic to summoner avatars of their champions into the Fields of Justice. And like frosty hell do I have the energy for a real Spatial spell."  
"I thought you said it was rare."  
"Well.. it really is, because it is so intensive and complex. Flash, for example, requires so much energy and coodination to transport champions but a few feet that it takes an eternity to gather up the power to use it again."

"But…" Ahri's face scrunched up in remembrance of dozens of bad experiences in the middle lane. "There's that annoying Ezreal who flashes all over the place, and that stupid Veigar warps space or something with his giant stun, and… and..."

The Chronokeeper burst into laughter.

"HAHAHA!" Zilean wiped away a tear, "Ah, I'm sorry, Ahri, you must understand, in battle, most champions cheat. Ezreal uses a great amount of power only to _enhance _himself in pure light, and zip away. A great feat, but nonetheless, not spatial magic. Veigar hardly uses the full potential spatial magic with his stun, he only calls to the earth a great hole of absolutely nothing to stun enemies with a vacuum. And he still needs to conjure five enormous amplifying towers just to accomplish that! Yet even with that bland, unimaginative use of the art, it is still one of the most powerful spells in the Institute. That should give you some idea of the potential of Spatial magic."

"Then… who? Who uses it, truly?"  
Zilean fell silent as he contemplated the question.

"I hate to ring my own bell, but my own Chronomancy has much of its ground in the Spatial magic school. It takes some explaining, but time itself is an element of space, so you can imagine that I deal with that. You know the Void Walker, Kassadin. His magic is truly that of the Spatial, moving between dimensions to do battle, into that dark place that he and Malzahar call the Void"

Zilean gave a small laugh.

"And you know one more man who has mastered Spatial magic." The Chronokeeper smiled. "He is very close to you, I believe."  
"Oh, you mean…."  
"Yes... Him."  
Ahri snapped her fingers, and pointed at Zilean.  
"...Shen!"

"..."

"...Yes?"  
"...No." Zilean sighed. "I mean, yes, Shen does have an element of Spatial magic in his Ninjutsu, but who I meant was the Wuju Swordmaster, Master Yi."  
"...Yi?"

"All Wuju masters, throughout the ages, have had an affinity with their 'Wu', which means 'Nothingness', in the Ionian dialect. It was the name they gave their gift for Spatial magic."

Zilean gazed off into the distance.

"Even before his encounter with the Dragonsblade, Yi's Alpha Strike had just about reached the pinnacle of Spatial Magic combat. Mages around the world were in envy of Yi''s Spatial magic that synergized so well with his swordsmanship and courage."

"Wow… I knew Yi was strong, but…"  
"Not that strong? It is a shame that Yi's former unofficial role in the League was to guide junior summoners in the use of their skills. He, like many in the League, was limited in their applications. Yet released from his restraints, the world trembled and the ground shook.

"And you, Ahri my Dear, I will make like that. The world will shake and cower in fear at your will, because I see in you so much. In you is the look of the Masters of the old Rune Wars. In you is the heart of a good person. You will be the balance that scales the world."

Ahri frowned, and looked away.

"...If that is what everyone wants me to be," Ahri replied, in a slightly sad voice. Zilean was a little taken aback by her quieted response. "If that is what everyone wants me to be, then I'll do it."

Zilean sighed, and solemnly took the girl under her shoulder. He softly pat her hair as she stared off into the distance.

"No one can make you do anything you don't want to. What makes us do what we do is the will of your heart. Your principles may force you to act, and in those moments, the power to do what is right for ourselves and our loved ones often is sorely needed."  
"Learn from me, my dear, and the only limit to your world and your life will be yourself."  
"...That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

A dark figure sat in the shadows of some enormous statue in the Institute of War, running a whetstone down the length of his pitch-black sword.. The man had evaded the numerous palace guards with ease, and had situated himself in a remote location of the complex. Standing in front of him, in the little light that shone, was the Black Rose of Deceit, LeBlanc.

"Your plan is set, master. My subordinates have managed to place my teleportation mark in Councilor Kominye's office." LeBlanc turned to her colleague, another Black Rose, who was garbed in full palace guard armor. The double-agent guard gave a stoic nod in confirmation. "All we await is your call to strike."

The dark figure said nothing, only to continue sharpening his sword. The grinding of stone on metal echoed into the blackness.  
"Master? Is there anything else? When can we expect the attack?"

The dark figure continued grinding. Only when he was finished, and the edge of his blade managed to glint even in the twilight, did he speak.  
"Soon. Do not fail me."

At this, LeBlanc and the palace guard backed away into the shadows. Still the dark figure sat there. Looking again on his blade, the dark figure found the slightest imperfection, grunted in annoyance, and set back to grinding his sword.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Oh? It looks like you are doing well, for a pupil getting the stuffing beat out of her every day. Zilean's been working you hard."

Soraka, the Starchild, passed her Moon scepter over the bruises that Ahri had gathered from her practice sessions with Zilean. She looked the slightest bit annoyed as she cared after Ahri's injuries. Her yellow eyes, set in a light purple face, glinted in irritation. A brisk _Tsk!_ Escaped her purple lips as the Starchild healed over a particularly nasty bruise left by Zilean, who had caught Ahri quite well on the head with a stick he manipulated during one of their practice sessions.

"Might I ask exactly why are you taking it upon yourself to slowly become Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Punching Bag?"

"Well, Yi…"

"Ah."  
"No, he just wants me to know myself better." Ahri glanced down at her hand. Spread throughout her fingers and all over her palm were several vicious scars from third-degree burns that Yi said she sustained from fighting the demon Charred. "He said if anything like that time… that time with Singed… happens again, we'll have protection."

"Hm." Soraka mused skeptically, "Protection from the enemy? Or from you?"

When Ahri didn't respond, Soraka turned back to erasing her bruises. After a few more minutes of careful incantations, and a steady sweeping over all of Ahri's arms and legs, Soraka declared her largely fit. The Starchild was in the middle of chiding her on the values of looking after a young girl's health, when she stopped.

"Hm?"

Her hand froze. The Starchild stared at where the Crescent hovered over right then.

"Soraka? what is it?"

Soraka had stopped her Crescent over Ahri's belly. She muttered a few incantations as if to check something. She finished, and lowered her crescent.

A smile slowly spread across her face. The Starchild's eyes softened, and she looked all the more human.

"Well, Ahri, my dear, this is good news."

"Hm?"

"I have an excuse to pull you out of those damn lessons, now. I'll talk to Zilean to get him to stop beating on you with his magic clubs."

"What? What is it?"

Soraka laughed, and suddenly stood straight up on her goat-like legs. Her hoofs clattered against the stone of Ahri's quarters as the Starchild walked to the exit, grinning.

"Tell meee!" Ahri yelled, pleading. She followed the Starchild, beating lightly on Soraka's back.

"That's my secret for now, sweetheart." Soraka opened the door. "I do need to make you a present, though. When I give it to you, I'll tell you. Until then, no more lessons! Period!"

The Starchild clapped her hands in excitement, completely caught up in her own joy.

"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on your face! Ah, haha!"

Soraka left the quarters giggling like a schoolgirl, leaving Ahri sorely confused. She sat back on her bed. The fox's ears drooped in bewilderment. She did not know yet how to deal with being completely and utterly lost. Ahri tried to reason out what just happened there. She gave it a few seconds, before growling, and then flipped over on her bed. _Screw her,_ Ahri reckoned, as she nestled in her fluffy tails. _I'm tired and I want to sleep._

* * *

The Dark Battalion marched from the South. Thousands strong, they were armed with only the deadliest weapons, forged from volcano-forged obsidian and tempered by the most powerful of enchantments. Their armor was pitch-black, encapsulating the devils completely in protection. Only a miniscule slit cut into each of the face of their helms betrayed dark, dimly glowing eyes. So far, they had consumed several villages, both Noxian and Demacian in nature, coldly and mechanically butchering and putting every living soul in them to the sword. Not even the dogs survived the debauchery. In their wake, they left only bodies and blood. For what?

For their wood. The Dark Battalion dismantled the cottages that families had spent generations living in, killing every living thing in them, only because it was more efficient than cutting down the wood themselves.

The wood will assist our siege, their lieutenant ordered, and no living being can be left alive to preserve the element of surprise.

So ruthlessly efficient were the Dark Battalion that the lieutenant even ordered that garrisons be left behind in the corpse towns they had created, in order to ambush travelers and butcher them as well, so that their target would have no advance warning of their impending attack. None at all.

For their ultimate goal was the Institute of War. By their master's will, the Dark Battalion advanced on the League. They marched on with ruthless speed.

It was only a few days later that they reached the doorstep of the Institute. The League had only a few hours of notice of such a massive army on practically in their face. Immediately, the Palace Guard and the Champions were mobilized to combat this massive new threat.

* * *

Jax had assumed command of the Champions, barking orders out as soon as there was trouble. He sent them scurrying about, working on one project or another to combat the impending siege. The enemy was almost upon them.

"Alistar, move those turrets over by the barrels, we need those towers another twenty feet to the east, they're out of range! Caitlyn, take your men and scout the best vantage points for our snipers! We'll post you with Ashe and Tristana to cover the high ground!"

The minotaur grunted in affirmation, as he picked up a tower, and started hauling it closer to the front lines. Caitlyn turned, and shouted some orders, as a full rank of Piltover snipers filed behind her, and started jogging off into the mountainous crags, searching for the best overwatch areas.

Jax called out to an idle palace guard.

"Soldier, I order you to restock the supply of gunpowder in the eastern frontline. Their stockpiles have been running low after that fire a few hours ago."

Jax gazed out at the work they had done on the Entrance of the Institute of War. Behind every corner was a turret, hidden to be protected from siege weapons, but in crucial areas that would stop advancing the advancing army in their tracks. Barricades were set up along every wall, and men posted with rifles and bows to rain hell on the enemy. The Institute had become a fortress practically overnight.

Who were these men? Jax wondered as he gazed out into the distance at the camp of the invading army. They were neither Noxian nor Demacian, not in their pitch black armor. They seemed somewhat robotic— in the way that they moved, or how they twitched whenever it seemed that their orders had changed—they were eerily inhuman. Could they be from another world? Jax shivered at the notion of some inter-dimensional empire arrived on Valoran. They had enough problems of their own.

Master Yi, the Wuju Bladesmaster, came up behind him. The Master had brought out his most powerful battle suit, his Headhunter Armor for this battle. Six lenses gleamed viciously against his sharp, framed helm, offering advanced vision as well a small element for future sight. A tentacle ending in a cruel claw writhed behind his head, cancelling all ambient noise. Vicious claws were attached to the Master's forearm guards, allowing for a killing blow even when disarmed.

Finally, the blade he grasped in his armored hand was the finest in the world. It was a straight, flat slab that sported a simple, yet elegant guard ending in a dragon. On it, was carved the evil-killing inscription,

_Rlung Tsi Hya Tyan Gaor, _

Dragon Rises to where Ocean meets Heaven

It was the Dragon Rising Blade.

"Shen is ready, Grandmaster. So is the other rotation of our champions."

Jax nodded at this. Their entire defense rested on this crux of the strategy. They could not possibly defeat the entire army head on, so they had to funnel the enemy forces into tactical chokepoints. The ones who would hold these chokepoints were the League's very own champions. Once one champion would tire or get injured, the next would take his place, renewing the guard. Jax hoped that this would be enough to maybe delay and cripple the enemy forces.

There were three chokepoints to be held.

The first was at the entrance of the Institute of War. Here, at the widest area, was where the majority of their turrets were concentrated. There is where Jax would make his stand first. With his hammer, his true weapon Mjolnir, he would be able to destroy great swathes of the craven foe before he would have to retreat.

Jax, with the most raw power, would have to hold off the bulk.

The second chokepoint was deep, deep underneath the Institute. There no turrets stood guard, the heat would do most of the work over there. Yet even that god-forsaken place still had to be held against their dauntless enemy. Shen, the most durable of the first three to hold the chokepoints, would stand guard there, in the oppressive, murderous heat, until his will finally cracked, and some other champion would have to take his place.

Shen, the most focused of the Kinkou, would have to endure the Magma Chamber with those unfortunate enough to endure it with him.

Finally, there was a small bridge used to train new summoners in their arts. It was the area where Zilean held his numerous and painful practices with Ahri, and where summoners would sometimes mess about with the avatars of the champions. A small mountain pass around the Institute would perhaps allow an elite force to slip through, and attack unnoticed, that that point had to be held as well.

The Proving Grounds, an arena of endless duels, is where Master Yi would make his mark.

Yi gazed out at the encamped army.

"They will not wait long. I must go."

Jax nodded in affirmation.

"Good luck, brother."

"And you too, my friend."

Yi raised a hand in farewell, and walked off to the Proving Grounds. Jax gave him a passing glance, before jumping to his chosen spot, leaping down a twenty feet of steep, steep stairs, where he would make his stand. The Grandmaster slammed his hammer down in determination. He would not fail.

* * *

LeBlanc stood with her master in the shadows, from behind defender lines. They watched over the futile preparations of siege by the defenders. The Deceiver had a grin on her face, as constantly she mocked every bit of the defender's efforts, bit by bit.

"As you expected, master. They are sending out a champion at a time to meet our forces. Right into our plan" LeBlanc gave a sigh. "I'm surprised, though. I thought Jax would send ALL of the champions out. Too bad. Guess they weren't that dumb after all. But I guess fighting for so long, you get this kind of instinct. Too bad I was born a spy. Ha-ha!"

The dark figure grunted, watching solemnly over the siege procedures. His army was starting to move.

"Clumped champions… are too vulnerable to siege weapons." The dark figure scowled. "You know nothing of war, woman."

LeBlanc recoiled a bit at the rebuke, but quickly recovered. She quickly put on another sly smile, maybe to placate the master. The dark man did not respond. The Deceiver seemed to shrink at his silence.

"A-Anyhow, I must go to Councilor Kolminye's office. I have the next part of the plan to carry out." LeBlanc turned back to head to the Council of Equity's chambers, but the dark man's voice cut in.

"Wait."

LeBlanc froze immediately. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck as she gulped.

"Who was defending the bridge called the Proving Grounds?"

LeBlanc turned around, a smile fakely plastered on her face, her fear of the man palpable. Her voice came out quaky and weak.

"T-that was Yi, the Wuju bladesman, master. My scouts confirmed this-"

"Enough. Do not block off the bridge."

The dark figure rose, picking up his sword. LeBlanc hastily bowed as the man swept away into the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the glint of the dark figure's razor-sharp sword as it shone in the shadows. She quivered from the strength of the man's spirit, and sweat dripped all about the stone floor of the upper balcony they were on. Even longer after he was gone, LeBlanc still remained bowing.

"Y-yes… master. It will be done."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Vesseria Kolminye retired to her office, in anticipation of the impending attack. She had just given her summoners a rousing speech, demanding strength and courage in this time of crisis. She stirred their hearts to fight for their livelihoods and their world against the craven invaders. And then to cheers of her subordinates, she excused herself to prepare for battle.

Inside, her insides churned with apprehension. All she wanted to do was run away.

She was the High Councilor, and one of the three most important people in the League. Surely she had little reason to be on the front lines. So she could only wait in horrible anticipation, for either the alien forms of the invaders to burst through her office doors and slit her throat, or for the hulking silhouette of Reginald, with his lamppost bloody and dented, to stride in, and claim victory in her name.

She could only wait.

She sealed the door of her office, and fell bodily onto her chair. From there, she could monitor the entire battle. But she didn't want to. Her courage waned. She grasped for her bottle of Graggy Black Ice, which was normally hidden deep in her desk drawer, but as she fumbled, her hands only brushed dusty files and old inkwells.

The Councilor cursed as she cut her hand on a broken piece of glass.

"Damn it!"

From behind, LeBlanc held the bottle of Graggy over Councilor Kolminye's shoulder, tilting it by its neck.

"Looking for this?"

* * *

Jax smashed yet another dozen soldiers in a mess of black blood and shattered obsidian. Another squad advanced from his flank, racing up the steps with the abandon of suicide troops, but were quickly cut down by the row of snipers nested in the mountains around the Institute. Without pause, Jax swept up his Mjolnir, augmented the weathered and beaten hammer until it shone gold like the sun, and smashed a crevasse dozens of feet deep into the Institute steps. The instant fissure hungrily swallowed up another half-century and a siege tower, but still there were thousands, hundreds of thousands more ready to move in, ready to end the Grandmaster's one-man stand.

Yet still Jax fought on.

Shen stood in a meditative pose in the Magma Chamber. If there was such thing as hell on earth, the Magma Chambers would be it. The heat caused the entire cavern to shift and wave in bends, until the entire damn place looked like it was underwater. The sensation, however, was nothing like being submerged. The heat, the oppressive heat, cooked and baked the Eye of the Twilight as he sat on a perilous chokepoint; an extremely thin bridge of hardened magma that would let only one across at a time. So far, he only moved to slice the head of the odd Dark Battalion soldier that managed to navigate its way to the exit. The rest perished under the murderous heat. Yet, he was surprised at how many men the Battalion had committed to the fight down under. Even though the Eye of the Twilight watched 8, 9 out of 10 men collapse and die to the heat, there were still a dozen corpses that now lay dead for grace of sword, not flame, and nearly thrice that number that died from merely a tap that sent them stumbling into the lava below.

If Shen had not been there, an attack force of maybe a hundred would have collected below the institute by now, and probably attacked.

The ninja was troubled at how casually the Battalion's commander threw away his men, but a thousand times upon thousands more troubled…. Troubled that the commander could even have so many men to fight.

But there was still the guard to be held. He had his duty. Shen stepped forwards, and cut off the head of another swordman, sending the soldier falling headless into the pits.

Yi parried the blow of the soldier with ease, flicking his Dragon Rising to the side, and striking the enemy halberd into the rock. Yi twisted away from the wild punch by the soldier, and took the opportunity to trip the thing with a sweep of his legs. As the thing fell on all forwards, Yi stepped forwards, and struck downwards with his blade, and into the halberdier, cutting through shaft, plated armor, and soldier itself. The thing collapsed, joining its brothers in an ever-growing pile of bodies at the center of the Proving Grounds.

"Next."

The next soldier stepped forwards, this one holding a wicked sword in each hand.

The two struck.

Fiora, who was next in line to relieve Yi, stood leaning against the second tier tower, checking her immaculately manicured nails. She called out, taunting the Bladesmaster.

"Maître Yi, are you not yet getting tired? Your blade seems dulled and slow, and ah'm not yet as ancient as you. In fact, it is considered 'onorable in my culture to let ze young guard pick up after ze old."

The Wuju master stepped to the side of a scissors cut, and with lightning-quick reactions, grabbed the thing's arm, and twisted it behind it, breaking several bones in what sounded like the shattering of glass. A quick blow to the back of the neck, and the neckbones shattered too, dropping the soldier dead in his tracks.

"Sorry-I'm not done yet, little Fiora." Yi gave a small grin. "Oblige an old man, and wait until I'm tired." Yi dodged an axe throw from behind blind, and caught it in front of him, after it had already missed hitting his head. The Wuju master then twisted around and gave the obsidian axe back to its owner. He didn't miss.

"It might be a while…" Yi said apologetically. Behind him, the soldier crumpled, with an axe between the eyes.

Fiora groaned, and flicked her hair with annoyance. She went back to inspecting her nails, when something caught her eye in the reflection of her sword. In the reflection, it seemed to be person, holding onto a blade.

"Oi, oi, oi," Fiora called out, still fixated on her nails. "Monsieur Talon! Your turn 'as not come yet."

A hard, grating voice that was definitely not Talon cut in.

"Out of the way," The dark man growled.

Fiora looked up in surprise, snarled, and drew her sword. She leveled her rapier at the slowly advancing man.

"Who are you? An'ser immediately!"

The man did not stop. Now that Fiora could see him more clearly, a twinge of fear, a rare emotion for her, rung in her heart. Stripped half-naked, the man looked as if he was forged from iron. Rippled, savage muscles bound his bare chest. His face was half obscured by a large black bandanna that covered the man's right eye, and by a long, flowing beard that had black ribbons strung through them. The only part of his face that was visible, his left eye, was hard and unyielding. The old man had pillowing, baggy black pants that were so popular among Ionian martial artists. Through all of it, he was completely unarmored, which just made him more intimidating, as his chest and pectorals were filled with so many scars that the man looked as if he was born part-tiger. Even though the man had set his blade down behind him, he was still a terrifying sight.

"S-stop!" Fiora stepped forwards, resting the tip of her point on the man's chest. She had the insane concern that she may not be able to pierce the man's skin. "One more step, and' ah run you 'trough!"

The man took a step forwards, letting the rapier sink in a half inch. He did not flinch. He did not back down. He only stared straight at Fiora with that single, burning eye of his.

"What is a woman doing, in a sport for men?

At the insult, Fiora screamed, and pulled her rapier out. She swung her rapier to the side, but hit nothing. The man easily sidestepped the lightning-quick blow with a tilt of his massive bulk. The man skipped back, dodging several more slashes, before reaching his sword. He gripped his sword, and slowly raised it. Fiora started to tremble at the sight. The sword was far longer than she had realized, nearly ten feet long, and forged from what looked like extremely dense steel. Despite this, the man held the absolutely colossal blade with a single hand. The design was crude, but terrifyingly practical. It looked as if the man was holding just a slab of iron.

The champion swallowed her fear, and charged at the man. A bad choice.

The man swung the massive blade with impossible speed at the charging Fiora. Fiora, caught off guard, had barely enough time to raise her blade, and catch the sword before she was beat onto the ground, off her feet and in a heap on the stones, with a single strike. If she had not blocked the blow, she would have been cut in half lengthwise.

She started backing away, but still the man did not stop. He kept on walking towards the center of the Proving Grounds. He kept on walking towards Yi.

Fiora tripped while backing up, and the man was upon her. He gave her a glance, and then raised his blade. Without hesitation, he drove it down, piercing Fiora through her stomach. The duelist screamed in agony, and her sword snapped, shattered from a futile attempt to block the death blow; the pieces clattered noisily against the stone.

Yi turned around at the noise, only to see the man drag Fiora to her knees, and prepare to execute her. He swung at her exposed neck.

"No!" Yi's footsword spun, and stuck itself by Fiora's leg.

Yi dashed in, stepping into the fifth dimension. He ran through the world of darkness and light, until he reached the red tassel of his footsword, his marker and way of navigating through the other world when he chose to. Crouching down, he picked up the Fiora gently. He intended to dash all the way back to their side of the Proving Grounds, and drop her off, but as he did, something ELSE reached up behind him, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him into the real world.

Yi re-entered the world, hitting the ground at blinding speeds, while accidentally dropping Fiora on the ground with him. The girl bounced and rolled off the stone, trailing blood from her stomach wound.

"Who-?" Yi turned to the man.

He glared at the offender, who was standing stock still, massive sword in his hands. There was something that troubled Yi deeply about the man. Something old crept into his mind. Creeping notes of… familiarity.

"Wuju style!" Yi yelled, wrapping his blade in hexes and runes.

Yi gave a savage cut to the man, but dark man avoided the ignited Dragon Rising with a twist of his body, barely skimming the blade. Time and time again, Yi swung, but the man would not block the blow. It was almost as if he knew Yi's Wuju Prison would snare him if he even tried to block. Yi tried a wild strike, and this time, the man raised his sword to block. But unlike before, his sword was wrapped in a fiery light, and that light burned away Yi's runes and hexes, leaving his Dragon Rising naked. The man slammed back Yi with his black sword, sending Yi skidding against the rock.

Yi lost patience, and flipped upwards. He swung his blade up, and angled it downwards, driving it like a nail at the man.

"Bravehear-"

The man grabbed Yi, and threw him to the ground. Yi rolled several times over, and got up slowly. The Wuju master wiped blood from his mouth.

"Yi… you should know better than that!" The old man gave a fierce snarl, and Yi could see his a red glint in his eye almost glow in the night. "After all… I was the one who taught you!"

"What?"

Pins and needles shot all over Yi at the statement. The Wuju Bladesman looked up incredulously at the boast, and at the man in the black garb who made it. A memory of a similar man, so many thousands of years ago, in a similar, white garb, flashed through his mind.

"It couldn't be…" He would not believe it. That man has been dead for thousands of years!

Yi flung his two foot-swords at the old man, who only had to flick his blade in annoyance at the missiles. Yi stepped into the fifth dimension, and started his Blades Dash. But once he did, there was something else in the world with him. A dark, monstrous shadow. It swept towards him with equal speed, and grabbed him by the face.

Yi re-entered the real world with a shout, as the dark man slammed the Wuju Bladesman a foot-deep into a stone tower.

"Fool! You are not the only one who can enter the Wu!" The dark man punctuated every sentence with one more slam into Yi, driving him deeper into the rock. "How could I have wasted so many years teaching your hopeless self?! How could you possibly be so stupid?! How could a pupil of mine be so WEAK?!"

Yi could barely choke out his words.

"M-master…?"

"No more words. You aren't worthy to the blood of the Wuju." Master Heian raised his great black blade.

Yi raised his Dragon Rising, too.

"I'm sorry, _Sifu_."

Vacuums wrapped about the Dragon Rising, trapping Master Heian in their suction. The great, hulking man tried to escape the vaccum's embrace, but he was stuck fast. Slowly, but surely, he was being dragged to towards the Dragon Rising.

Master Yi, with slow, deliberate effort, swept his blade back. Heian could see how the edges of the tears in space cut through the tower behind Yi with no resistance. He could see the power. Heian could see death in Yi's stroke.

"Dragon Slayer! ALPHA STRIKE!"

"Shadow Highlander!"

Yi swung.

Heian disappeared.

A whirl of black and dark colors struck Yi as he was forcibly dragged through the tower, reducing it to rubble. Yi was then thrown back, smacking against the stone steps, rolling, bouncing against the rock. Finally, he came to a rest, lying face up. He did not move.

Master Heian reappeared in the real world a few seconds later. He gazed at Yi with appraisal. Cradled in his hands, over his hardened abdominals, was a perfect, almost-deadly cut from Yi's ultimate strike.

"Hmph."

He opened an orb communicator.

"I'm done. Do it."

* * *

Master Heian's voice crackled from one of LeBlanc's earrings. LeBlanc was relaxing in Councilor Kolminye's chair, her feet on the desk, when the order from Heian came. She took a sip from the glass of Graggy she had cupped in her hands, then strode over to a panel of glowing hexes and runes set into stone. This was the control panel to the entire League. All she needed was the handprint of a High Councilor to activate the systems.

She picked up Councilor Kolminye's hand, flipped it casually in her hands, before fitting it with some trouble onto a particular rune. The Rune unlocked, twisting and changing color, and with that, LeBlanc had control to the entire League's defense systems. She tossed away the hand once she was done.

"So many attackers on the outside," LeBlanc mused, "We should trap them outside, shouldn't we, Councilor?"

The High Councilor did not respond. It would have been extremely disturbing if she did.

"I knew you would see things my way," LeBlanc joked. She activated the forcefield.

* * *

Jax was in the midst of fighting yet another dozen soldiers, when he backed up to a wall. Strange. There was no wall before. The Grandmaster spun around, and what he saw made his stomach churn.

The entire Institute of War had been sealed off. Blue shields had wrapped around the entire building, cutting off the League from the entire rest of the world.

_What was Councilor Kolminye thinking?!_ Jax raged mentally, because he knew their stockpiles of food were far from enough. Cut off from supply, it was only a matter of time before all the defenders starved to death. _Did the High Councilor's cowardice finally catch up with her?!_

But Jax had more pressing problems. He was trapped outside, with no way out, and tens of thousands of angry soldiers still left to fight. His pride wounded, Jax beat a hasty retreat.

Shen was roused from his meditation. He looked to his back, only to find that some mystical force had completely blocked off the exit back to the League. The ninja wordlessly stared at his only way back. From as far as he knew, the incoming soldiers were being dropped from the surface above down to here; there would be no way out. He also did not know if the shield would stay forever.

That left only one option, and it would put his endurance to the test.

Shen sat back down, and continued to block off the exit. He was the Eye of the Twilight. _He had his duty!_ He would endure.

And still all around him, more soldiers crawled to Shen, dying from the heat.

* * *

Master Heian motioned with his hand. Troops immediately started pouring in from the Proving Grounds entrance. Within a few minutes, all four-thousand of Heian's elite company, minus the 76 that Master Yi had already slain, had managed to invade Institute walls. As soon as the last soldier cleared the entrace, LeBlanc activated the barrier, sealing off the last exit to the Institute.

Now the League was truly cut off.

_Now their terror begins,_ LeBlanc thought gleefully.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"AH!"

Ahri willed her orb to zip through the air, and strike at the helms of the advancing soldiers. The glowing ball smashed their heads, and cracked the dark obsidian it was crafted from, but the stunning strike barely slowed them. Still the dark soldiers advanced, armed with their cruel weapons. Behind the invaders, Ahri could see champions fighting, and losing, against the flood of attackers.

It was total war in the Insititute's Grand Hall. Each champion had broken off in combat with ten or fifteen other soldiers, at very poor odds. The Dark Battalion was more skilled than they seemed, able to stand toe-to toe with many of the League's greatest. One by one, Valoran's greatest heroes were being overwhelmed, then shackled, and dragged off by the army.

In the far back, Ahri could see a girl, barely three years old, being slowly encircled by men in armor nearly thrice her size.

"Ah…ah…" Annie Hastur fretted as the invaders closed in on her. She had never been exposed to real combat before, her mind was always sheltered from the battle in the League, for few wanted a 3-year old girl to actually experience death on the battlefield. A particularly large soldier, wrapped in the spiked armor of a captain, ordered his men forwards.

"Take her!"

Ahri swept her orb in front of her.

"NO!"

"Ahri!" Zilean called from behind, one foot up a winding staircase. "Don't be stupid! Get back here!" He reached his hand out to Ahri, who gave it a passing glance. Then she ran.

She charged across the battlefield, smacking away as many soldiers as she could with her orb to get to Annie. Many of the soldiers turned, and gave Ahri passing swipes with their weapons. Ahri collected vicious cuts, hard bruises, and terrible wounds running through the gauntlet of weapons that reached out to strike her.

_She had to get there…!_

Annie backed up against a wall, as the first soldier stepped forwards, heavy chains in hand. The thing grabbed Annie's hand, and slapped the first cuff on.

"T-Tibbers!" The girl held out her stuffed bear, which immediately burst into flame.

And behind the soldier, a fiery shadow bear was summoned. The thing barely had the time to look around before he was mauled by a paw the size of its head.

"Tibbers" charged through the soldiers, burning and crushing them with his enormous strength. But he was not invincible.  
"Kill the beast!" Snarled the captain, and the Dark Battalion refocused its efforts to slaying the bear. Their weapons drew fiery wounds on the shadow bear as it moaned, and continued to try and crush as many of them as possible.

"Annie!" Ahri swept in and hugged the little girl, covering the child with her body. Behind them, four soldiers advanced, weapons raised.

Ahri raised her hand to call her orb, but nothing came. Her injuries had sapped her strength.

"No…"

"I thought I told you," Zilean snarled, magically enhanced fists flying, "Not to do anything stupid!"

The frail old man smashed the nearest soldier to pieces with his bare hands; though with magic flowing about his palms until they shone. A mace tried to strike his head, but Zilean blew him back with an invocation, and summoned a time bomb of the luckless soldier's head. The thing grasped feebly at the explosive, before bursting apart in a shower of clockworks and obsidian.

"Ahri! Go!" Zilean turned to face a dozen more soldiers that had charged him. Behind them, Tibbers was slowly being overwhelmed by close to a hundred men. "Take Annie and run!"

The fox gathered the last of her strength to pick up the protesting child, and starting running for the nearest staircase.

"Wait! Please wait!" cried Annie, "Tibbers! TIBBERS!"

They were quickly surrounded, but Ahri was prepared. She ran up the side of an adjacent wall, and started her ultimate enhancement.

"Annie, sweetie, hold on tight!"

She flung herself above the head of the soldiers, wrapped in thunder and smoke. Bolts shot form her body, piercing the bodies of a dozen soldiers. She landed, yet still more came.

_No! Not yet!_

She enhanced herself again, launching her way towards the stairwell, and again, once they were trapped. Ahri made it up the staircase, and away from the main part of the battle. But still, even though Ahri had managed that, there were soldiers that had followed her up the stairway, their obsidian boots clattering nosily against the stone steps in pursuit.

She was spent. She could barely carry the crying child up the staircase, but still she fled from her pursuers with her waning strength, her vision fading.

They climbed for what seemed like an hour. Several times, Ahri had sped down an adjacent corridor, or tried to slip past the soldiers in pursuit, but the invaders were inhumanly good trackers, and they stuck to the fox like hounds throughout the entire chase. What was worse, it seemed like the main battle in the Great Hall below had largely concluded, and now more soldiers joined in the chase for her and Annie.

_Zilean_, she wondered, _are you alright?_

The old man had stayed behind for her and Annie. She would not let it go to waste.

But she didn't know how she was going to f*cking do it. Her mana was spent. Her injuries sustained from her unwise charge into a thicket of foes were beginning to take their toll. And their pursuers were indefatigable, and growing.

She limped down a corridor, and found to her horror, that it was a dead end. The corridor only led straight down to a heavy wood door, bound with iron and dark. Behind her, she could hear the footsteps of the enemy growing louder. She swept up to the door, and pounded frantically on it.

"Please! Anyone! Open up!"

No answer.

She turned back, and she could see shadows moving in the distance. Annie whimpered, and gripped the fox's leg. Ahri crouched down, and hugged the child. She would not let it end here.

Ahri got up, to face the intruders.

She pulled her hands up into an imitation of what she thought she saw Jax and Yi do. Some kind of close-combat stance, something!

"Yi…"

How she wished he was here. He would solve everything.

But he was out there, defending the League. And she had to do her part.

The soldiers were advancing.

"Annie…. I won't let them have you!"

* * *

Inside, a man stirred. From the hearth of his fire, he had first heard pounding, and worried that his home-made kiln was improperly made, and blown a chamber. The huge man hurried over to check his clay stove. But when he got there, he found his precious kiln to be perfectly safe. Which left the question of what the devil was that noise? The man rose, groping for his helmet in the low light. As soon as he found his trusty helm, he stepped towards his door.

* * *

"Ahh!"

Ahri fell back, dazed from a swift blow to the head. She had been struck in the temple by the hilt of the nearest soldier's sword. The dark blade had drawn blood over Ahri's face. Blood tricked down her forehead from her lush black hair, and into her eye, blinding her for a bit.

Panting, she wiped the blood away.

"I… won't let them!"

She charged at the soldier again, who just kicked her back. The metal foot had caught Ahri in the gut, and knocked the wind out of her. The fox lay on the ground, stunned by the blow. The soldier advanced.

* * *

The man collected his weapons, and opened his door. To his surprise, little Annie sat crying at his doorstep. At his appearance, the little girl looked up. Her mouth opened slightly.

"M…mister? Help."

She pointed down the corridor.

The man looked down, and in the shadows, he could see the rumored dark soldiers beating on what looked like a girl, enwrapped by nine tails. She was putting up one hell of a fight, but was being overwhelmed.

Something else caught his notice. The soldiers' form, their fighting style… were all ugly, and clumsy. To have to see such a shameful display of martial combat… annoyed the man greatly.

The man turned to Annie, and gave a single nod.

"With pleasure."

* * *

Ahri fell back, bruised and bloodied. Her blood stained her beautiful red and white clothes, and half her face was swollen by the blunt strikes. The soldier in front of her raised his mace in what looked like a finishing blow.

"I…"

THWOCK!

The man was caught in the neck by a flying something. With a start, the missile lurched the soldier off and to the right, sending him crashing into his fellows, a spear clean through his neck. His mace clattered to the floor.

"Who…" A sharp, clear voice cut into the corridor, "DARES DISGRACE THE ART OF WAR?!"

Pantheon leapt into the fray, gripping an enormous shield, and already drawing his next spear. With a ferocious swing, the Artisan of War smashed the skull of another soldier with his massive shield, shattering the obsidian helm like glass. A soldier charged him with a pike, but the Rakkor easily caught the point on his shield, and deflected it upwards. With a mighty swing of his spear, Pantheon slashed with his point like a sword, cutting deep into the man's armor, and shattering everything beneath.

The huge man strode forwards. His skull was enclosed in a large, imposing Greek helm that shrouded his face completely. Strapped to his chest was a pure bronze plate that was shaped to look like it he had the body of a god. And in his hands, was an enormous shield that covered nearly his entire body, and in the other, a huge spear. Finally, a crimson cape marking him as the absolute elite of all warriors, a Rakkor Warguard, was clipped to his shoulders.

There were still three left. The soldiers glanced at each other once, before all bum-rushing the man at once.

"Cock-sure, arrogant virgins!"

Pantheon swept his spear forwards, and thrust a hundred upon a thousand times in front of him.

"Your fate is sealed!"

The soldiers stumbled back, dozens of holes in their armor from the attack. Yet Pantheon did not let up; he continued thrusting, until the obsidian armor of the soldiers were crushed into pieces no larger than grains of sand, and black blood oozed eagerly out of what was left of the enemy. None of them looked even remotely human anymore.

The Artisan of War sighed, and set his spear down.

"Disgraceful."

"Th-thank…" Ahri mumbled, but she was cut short. Pantheon picked her up by the belt, and carried her in his hand like a package.

"Enough. You're hurt. Into my quarters."

Ahri sighed, and hung as restfully as she could in her clothes. She was placed more gently on a stone bed than she expected, and as she did, Annie crawled up to her and hugged her waist. The fox opened her eyes a crack, and patted the child's hair.

A good smell wafted in.

She took the opportunity to look about Pantheon's quarters. It was extremely Spartan, bare and practical. A single table was set in the center. They were seated on a stone bed that looked like it was chased into the corner. In the far side, there was a clay furnace, which was burning bright and warm; Ahri could even feel the heat from here. It seemed like the good smell was coming from there.

She closed her eyes, and smiled.

"Is something cooking? It smells good~"

Pantheon, who was busy pulling out some dusty old bandages from a drawer, gave a start.

"W-well, um…"

"Hm?" Ahri mumbled,

The Rakkor seemed nervous.

"Well I have this hobby, for, and I, uh…" The man trailed off. The man scratched at his helmet.

"I know! Practicing the holy art of war makes a manly man like me hungry! So I hunt and cook my own meals like a real man should! Except, not hunt. Well... I mean, I cook my own food so no coward cowering with skinny arms could ever poison me! Yeah! Let's go with that!"

Ahri and Annie stared at the man with mild interest as he fumbled with his words. The Rakkor glanced at them, and then cautiously edged to a cupboard. He slowly pulled out several soft white loaves of bread, fresh from the oven.

He edged to the ladies, and held out the baked goods.

"W-would you like to try some bread? I baked it myself."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Three slim figures hurriedly shuffled across the Great Hall, hooded and garbed in purple summoner robes. The first was slim and feminine; she took the lead, searching each of the prisoners for a certain someone. The second clung to the first; this one was extremely tiny, and nearly disappearing in her over-sized robes. The final was large, hulking, and seemed to be wearing headgear under his purple hood.

They weaved their way through the thousands of prisoners of war that were being herded in the Great Hall. The vast majority of the POWs were Summoners of the Institute. After their champions fell, the League's Summoners surrendered in bulk. It was either that, or die to the blade.

Zilean sat slouched against one of the pillars, chained by the hands and feet, and stripped of his clock. The chains attached to his arms and legs were magically suppressing, blue flames cut into wells on the chains burned away his Mana, his magical energy, until he was bone dry. But unknown to his captors, Zilean was storing his Mana. Drip by drip, trickle by trickle, Zilean stored his magical energy into a sapphire crystal hidden in his fist. It was a pitiful amount… and after many hours of exhaustive concentration, but it was something.

"Pst! Grandpa!"

Zilean looked up, and with a start, nearly dropped the sapphire.

It was Ahri.

She was grinning, robed in a Purple Summoner's robe, a finger to her lips. Her hood was drawn over her head, and her tails presumably tucked away in her clothes. Only the slightest bulge of her hood betrayed her fox ears. Behind her, Annie clung to her legs, completely swamped in the Purple Summoner robes that the other two had thrown over her. Finally, Pantheon took up the rear, looking patently ridiculous with his hood drawn over his signature helm, and his barely-fitting robes wrapped so tightly about his body that Zilean was surprised it did not burst. It looked like the fool had even brought his massive shield and a good supply of spears with him, wrapped in brown baking paper in a package under his arm.

"Found you!"

* * *

"These are the champions that have agreed to willingly serve you, Master."

LeBlanc and Heian were standing in small anteroom, receiving a half dozen champions who responded to the recruiting calls of LeBlanc's Black Rose agents. The Master himself sat on a bench, sword by his side. His eyes were narrowed in evaluation.

LeBlanc swept her hand, and with a bow, presented the turn-coat champions. The former heroes of the league milled about, each more vicious than the last, and all glaring at each other with animosity.

Master Heian slowly got up, and strode down the restless line of champions, gazing upon each of them with barely concealed contempt. Once the Wuju master happened on Renekton's appearance, Master Heian's face scrunched up in disdain.

"What an ugly lot."

"Well, evil doesn't usually come in pretty packages, Master, you and I excluded, of course, but all of these beings here are loyally, and faithfully, at your service-"

A high, clear voice cut LeBlanc off.

"Excuse me, my dear…"

LeBlanc backed off a bit as a champion broke rank. The man was slim and bony, and robed in a crimson cloak. Everything, from his swirled white hair, to his thin skull and slender fingers, gave him an incredibly sharp and pointy appearance. Even his robes had blades and spears weaved into their threads. His eyes glowed maliciously as he licked his bloodless lips.

"But I am no cowering sheep. I want something else." Vladmir, the Hemomancer, Blood Mage, strode confidently towards Master Heian. The Wuju master seemed to shrink away from him, but from disgust, more than anything else.

"This is excellent timing, your little rebellion of yours, 'Master'," Vladimir droned on, his words dripping with condescension, "and I must say that I am impressed, you've got quite the quaint occupation here."

Heian did not miss the veiled insults. The dark man's facial muscles twitched.

"I say this is excellent timing, because I have just perfected my ultimate form, something I have dubbed the 'Blood Lord' form, and I have been just itching to try it out on someone… " the Hemomancer's tongue made a complete circuit about his thin lips. "I was looking to use it on Master Yi, but it seems you, good Master, have killed him already, so…."

Blood started rising from the stone runes on the ground. The blood shot up, and twisted about Vladmir as he walked closer and closer to Master Heian. Ropes of blood started forming about his chest, arms, and legs. The blood was hardening, forming metal armor, giving him the size and stature of a great warrior. A glowing heart started to swell in the center of his sternum. The ground started to shake with the magical energy, and the suppressing chains that were previously clamped onto Vladimir burst off in small explosions. The Blood Mage was changing into his penultimate form.

"My fondest wish is for a worthy opponent to test my craft! Come, 'Master' Heian! You will be my first meal as BLOOD LORD VLADIM… M…—Haagk!"

Master Heian had rushed up and stabbed Vladimir through the chest. The Blood Lord choked a bit as he struggled to work around the ten foot piece of metal stabbed through his sternum. His blood armor was still struggling to form around him. The proud Hemomancer was forced to the ground, then grotesquely impaled on the ground.

"You talk too much."

Standing over him, Master Heian grabbed Vladimir's right arm with his free hand, and planted a foot on the Blood Lord's chest. The Wuju master's other hand was still gripped firmly on his black sword.

"Wh…" Vladimir's glowing eyes widened. "What are you…"

With tremendous strength, Heian ripped out Valdimir's arm from the socket. Blood, much of it stolen blood, spilled out Vladimir's shoulder in gallons. The red drink splashed onto the rocks, and started seeping into the cracks and crevasses in the stone floor.

Heian tossed the limb onto the floor with disgust. The appendage flopped wetly on the stone floor, landing in the blood-soaked rocks with a splat.

"AGGGH!"

Vladimir, his mind barely conscious from all of the pain, reached out with his free arm to the ripped out arm five feet away from him.

_If he could just manipulate the blood in his lost arm, he could maybe re-attach it—_

Master Heian pulled his sword out of Vladimir, drawing a stifled scream from the Blood Lord. The Wuju master then ignited his massive sword with the flame of Wuju, and stabbed Vladimir's separated limb. Vladimir's right arm burned up into ash in less than a second.

Vladimir let his remaining arm drop. He looked up to the Wuju master standing above him.

"W-wait." Vladimir held up his arm, as if to shield his eyes from Heian. His last arm quivered feebly. "I can help you…"

"I don't care." Master Heian violently swung downwards. The tip of his black sword smashed Vladimir's head into the rocks. The effect, however, was little like a sword, more like a warhammer, or a bomb. There was nothing left but a rocky crater, and a big, bloody nothing where Vladimir's head once was.

Master Heian turned to the rest of his conscripts. The champions were all suitably cowed.

"Anyone else want to test me?"

"Of course not," LeBlanc called out, rolling her eyes. She strode towards the turncoats with a toss of her hair. "Now, what Master Heian wants you all to do for now is to station yourself in strategic locations about the Institute, and block them off. There are still a few champions that have slipped out of our grasp, and we need every last one of them either working for the Master, corrupted to force them to work for him, or dead."

LeBlanc narrowed her eyes at the traitor champions.

"You were graciously given free will because we value your strength and instincts. Betray us, and your reward will make Vladimir's look kind in comparison. Understand?"

Understanding very firmly established, the champions quickly left the room. Soon LeBlanc and Master Heian were left alone.

"Well that was good," LeBlanc started babbling again, nervously edging around Vladimir's corpse. "I didn't think we would get that many-"

"There is still one more." Master Heian drew his sword. He started walking towards the shadows, off into the shadows of the Anteroom.

LeBlanc looked up in confusion. She stared into the blackness, but saw nothing.

Master Heian got only a few more feet, before a growl escaped the shadows, and a something, neither human nor Yordle, leaped out of its hiding spot. The thing landed on all fours, although it quickly got up on its legs, and gripped in its hands were cruel, homemade weapons.

Rengar, the Pridestalker, seemed to rise up to Master Heian.

Rengar was an intimidating sight, with the head of a lion, and with a mane braided all about his back until it looked as if he had draped a white curtain about his shoulders. As if his stature was not enough, he was closed in rudimentary armor, all thick and bulky, but effective. The Pridestalker growled for a bit at the Wuju master.

Then, in a complete reversal, he fell to a knee, and laid his weapon on the ground, in what was unmistakably kneeling.

"Rengar…" LeBlanc whistled, looking at the beast. "You were one of the ones that escaped us. We were going to search for you."

"What do you want?" Heian said, with a slight growl.

"To hunt. I care not for your plans, human, nor your methods. I live only for the Thrill of the Hunt. I want to hunt these escaped champions." Rengar looked up at Heian, with earnest eyes. "I seek only the strongest prey to hunt. So I submit to you for the hunt, human."

"You seek the strongest prey," Heian murmured, "Yet I am here, why do you still search?"

His words were no boast. It was a statement of fact. Rengar trembled a bit.

"To taste the Thrill of the Hunt, you must be predator, not prey." The Pridestalker's hands clenched in frustration at his own weakness. "You… you are no prey."

Master Heian gazed into the beast's eyes, for a long while. The Wuju Master gazed into Rengar's eyes, searching for that one, single truth in the Pridestalker's soul. Then Heian got up. He gave a single nod, to which LeBlanc walked up to the Pridestalker.

"Then, Rengar, we have a few champions that we want you to focus on. A few targets for you to hunt." LeBlanc gave a winning smile.

"Pantheon of Targon, Annie Hastur of the Grey Order, and Ahri of Ionia." The Deceiver patted Rengar's head. "Those three might be problematic. Do you think you can hunt them all down for us?"

"Hunt them down?" growled Rengar, picking up his blades, "I passed them on the way here."

* * *

"I see you have saved your bear," Zilean said, with a scowl. Annie smiled, and held out her stuffed bear Tibbers.

"Yup! I just called his name, and pulled him out Panny's oven! Tee hee!"

Zilean turned back to Ahri, and gripped her hands. The Chronokeeper's eyes were shrouded in concern.

"You understand what you must do, yes?"

Ahri looked down in their entwined hands. Her eyes closed, she rubbed his soft, wrinkled skin a bit. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Yes Grandpa."

"Master Yi wanted me to hold off until you fully mastered your powers, but there is no more time." Zilean stared earnestly into Ahri's closed eyes. "You must retrieve the Phoenix Sun, the TRUE Phoenix Sun, from the lowest depths of the Institute of War, where the Sealmaster Mejai hid it so many years ago. Take the Phoenix Sun, and destroy the barrier separating the Institute from the rest of the world. Then, call for help. You understand?"

"It will be done."

Zilean reached up, and hugged Ahri by the head. He let her rest her hooded skull on his chest.

"I know it will. You make me proud, my dear. Now go! Find the Phoenix Sun! I must stay! They kill a hundred summoners for every escape attempt a champion makes! Go!"

Ahri got up, still holding a bit onto Zilean's chained hands. Her fingers slipped away. The Chronokeeper urged them off.

"Grandpa… we're off."

The three started to walk away. Started to.

"No," growled Rengar, who leapt from the shadows, tossing his bolas at Ahri, "You're staying right here."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"LET GO OF ME!" Ahri beat against Pantheon's chest as he sprinted down the Institute's stairwell to its lower depths. Tears streamed down her face, as she pleaded over and over, but the man behind the implacable helmet was not moved. Without a word, he kept on carrying her and Annie down to where Zilean had commanded them to go, without missing a step. His footsteps clattered noisily against the stone steps as the three descended deeper and deeper into the darkness.

"LET GO!" Ahri screamed, as the darkness started to swallow her. "GO BACK AND HELP ZILEAN!"  
"I cannot." Pantheon's voice carried an edge of fear to it. His words echoed and rung into the inky blackness, as everything disappeared. "We would have died."

* * *

Before…

"No, you're staying right here," growled Rengar, who leapt from the shadows. With a tremendous heave, threw his three-headed bola straight at Ahri. The missile spun through the air for a second, before wrapping themselves tightly around the fox's ankles. Ahri gave a shout of annoyance as her feet, combined with her thick purple summoner robes, caused her to trip. She fell to her knees in a heap, as Rengar, the Pridestalker charged from her flank.  
_Even a beast, _thought Pantheon as he drew his spear,_ appears to disgrace the Art of War!_  
"Don't move, fox!" Pantheon leveled his spear at Ahri, who looked at him uncertainly at where he was aiming.  
"Pantheon, what are…?"  
"Trust me! Huoh!"  
The Rakkor flung his spear so quickly it seemed as if the javelin leapt out of his hands. The spear flew through the air, then buried itself right between Ahri's ankles, severing the bonds of Rengar's Bolas in a single cut. She quite understandably scrambled back in shock.  
"Woah—Th-thanks!"  
Ahri leapt to her feet, summoning her orb in a blink.  
"You…" She circled the Pridestalker, who had stopped once he saw Ahri was free of her bonds. "You're the new one, aren't you? Why are you helping them? Who are you, to be helping them?"  
"I don't know who I am," Rengar growled back, the Pridestalker had grown up not knowing his biological parents. His father, a legendary hunter, was the only family the Pridestalker had ever known. The only family, besides the hundreds of skulls that adorned his den back in the Plague Jungles. "But I know that YOU'RE prey!"  
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" Ahri nodded to Pantheon, who circled to Rengar's back. "There are three of us here."  
"NO!" Zilean yelled, desperate, "Hurry and run!"  
Rengar's face split in what some people would swear, days after the event, was the Pridestalker's attempt at a smile.

LeBlanc appeared behind Ahri, laughing.  
"He's not alone." She jabbed, as she launched a Sigil of Silence.

* * *

Master Heian sat with the Starchild, Soraka, in an unused side room of the Institute. The enormous man dwarfed both the stool he slouched on, and the woman treating him, but he did not make a sound. The Starchild, coldly and reluctantly, swept her Crescent over the Wuju master's injuries. There were few. Of all of his wounds, by far the worst was the one left by Master Yi's Dragon Slaying strike. The perfect cut from the rips in Space and Time had made a vacuum cut in Heian's side, preventing the sides of the wound from closing naturally. The cells had been broken down on a molecular level. Soraka had to spend a great deal more energy than she'd like to pull back the lips of the gaping wound. The flesh squelched noisily as she willed the folds of meat together, and sealed it with her healing magic. She didn't care to make it any less painful for the Master; the sensation must have been excruciating, but Heian accepted the treatment wordlessly.  
He was fighting all this time with THAT in him? Soraka pondered in disbelief. She was almost impressed. She saw what the master had done to the blood mage Vladimir, and she could scarcely believe that the same man that had ended the Hemomancer was the one with his guts nearly slipping out of his hardened body.

"Done," Soraka said tersely, and she quickly rose to leave. She spun around, and started marching back to her guard, her hands held out in front of her. "Take me back already," Soraka snapped to the guard, "There are still patients that I need to care for. Ones you created." Once the guard had snapped on the mana burning chains once more, Soraka started marching as quickly as she could out the door.

"Thank you." Heian said, without looking up. Soraka stopped only for a moment. Then she left.

Master Heian then reached for his sword. He slowly got up, testing the new muscle. He was pleased. Then, he let his chi, his very aura, spill out into the world around him. Because of what the Starchild had done for him, he was feeling merciful. He would give those three scurrying mice… advance warning. He usually suppressed his Chi, his battle aura, otherwise, all warriors and animals in a miles long radius would flee from the strength they could sense. There would have been no way to approach his idiot pupil without suppressing his Chi; the good Master Yi would have recognized Heian's aura in a second, and have fled.

But this time was different. He was in a good mood.

* * *

"I said RUN ALREADY!" ZIlean screamed, but still, the four fought. Pantheon blocked a savage looping cut from Rengar's axe, and responded in kind with a bash with his massive shield that sent the Pridestalker stumbling back, whining. Rengar looked up, and let out a low growl. He raised his weapons again, and crouched lower.

Rearing up, the Pridestalker roared.

LeBlanc kept sending Sigil of Silence after Sigil of Silence rocketing towards Ahri, each of which barely missed their mark. Ahri leaped back, further and further, with each sigil, knowing full well that if even one of those magical sigils struck her, all of her magic would be stripped away, and she would be left temporarily powerless.  
"Watch closely," LeBlanc said. In a flash, she disappeared, and Ahri lost her. She spun around, but LeBlanc was already behind her, the Deceiver's fanciful staff aimed directly at her back. "Too closely," She smirked. Her sigil erupted from her staff, and caught Ahri right in the back.  
"Ahh!"  
With a burst, Ahri was flung forwards, and she was sent sprawling onto the stone floor. Her black hair spilled out of her purple hood as it slipped off, revealing her pointy fox ears. Ahri slowly got up on all fours.  
"What a cute voice," LeBlanc blasted Ahri again, drawing out her scream. "I'm jealous. My voice is a bit too low to really get the boys."  
Ahri looked up, her eyes narrowed, her mouth open and teeth bared in anger.  
"Oh? Still defiant? Just how are you going to get out of this one, my dear?"  
Ahri's snarl disappeared, replaced by a smirk.  
"Simple," Ahri choked out, the silence still wreaking havoc on her voice, "like I said: there are there of us here."

A child's voice cut through the sounds of combat.  
"Tibbers!"

Annie's demon bear burst into form behind LeBlanc. Slowly, the Deceiver turned around, her face blank. Behind her, Tibbers loomed, completely covering the Deceiver in its shadow. The intense heat from its flaming body blew LeBlanc's hair back, and scorched her eyes, making her quint. LeBlanc gave a little _eep!_ of surprise.  
"Woah, that's like, not even fair—Hey!"

Tibber swung at her, and she only very narrowly avoided being mauled by teleporting back to her mark left on the ground before.  
"Frickin' bears" LeBlanc muttered, as Ahri's orb spun at her and between bear punches and flying foxfires, she was forced back.

Rengar charged forwards, crude axe in one hand, and arm-mounted claws on the other. With his axe, he wrenched aside Pantheon's shield, locking their arms together. With his claws, he pushed aside the Rakkor's spear, leaving nothing in between them. With brute strength, the Pridestalker was starting to force Pantheon down. Rengar lunged forwards as far as he could snapping with his vicious snout. With each bite, the beast grew closer and closer to Pantheon's throat.

"F*cking!" Pantheon managed to squeeze out in between dodges of Rengar bite, "b*stard! You disgrace the Art of War!"  
The Rakkor swept his leg up, and kneed Rengar hard in the stomach. The Pridestalker was lifted off the ground an inch, right before Pantheon swept his head forwards, smashing the metal bridge of his noseguard into Rengar's face. The Pridestalker stepped back, whining, and clawing at his face.  
"And now! Your fate is-"

A faint voice cut into the room. The sound was soft, as if it were from very far away.  
"Sealed, is it?"  
Pantheon froze.  
The Rakkor trod on centuries sacred Rakkor martial doctrine and good sense, and took his eyes off the enemy, to gaze down the length of the Great Hall. At the very far end, nearly a half-mile away, strode a figure. He was incredibly tall, muscular, and bare-chested. Thick, baggy pants grounded his figure from so far away. On his back was a ten-foot long sword, forged completely from dense black metal.

Master Heian was coming.

Even from so very far away, Pantheon could sense the man's presence. The Rakkor, proud and mighty, felt fear for only the second time in his life. The first, of course, was the day Leona underwent the Rite of Kor, and only by the grace of the gods was she saved. But this time, the fear was primal, existential, and terrifying unlike any other.

_He would die,_ Pantheon realized, _if he fought against the man with that dreadful aura, that aura that could be felt even from such an insane distance._

He did not fear death, no true Rakkor did. But he would have many regrets if he was taken to the Shadow Lands now. If he stayed, he would not die a glorious death, he would only be slain like a dog in an instant. If he stayed, he would never to guide his friends to their goal. If he stayed, he would never share bread with Leona again.

"Ahri, Annie." Pantheon's helm swiveled around, completely ignoring the slowly recovering Rengar in front of him. He faced the two ladies in front of him, who had stopped to look at him. "We must go."

"Good idea," whispered Heian from afar, and Pantheon felt yet another chill run up his spine.

"What…" Ahri's face scrunched up. "Are you talking about, Pan? We're BEATING THEM!"  
"You don't understand… He's coming."  
Pantheon turned to the shackled Zilean, who was trembling. He could feel the master's presence, too.  
"He's coming, and if we stay here, we will all die."  
"Ugh…" LeBlanc gripped onto her staff. She was slightly wounded, but her swagger and cockiness was still there. She was not beat yet. "If you run, my pretty little fox, we'll kill your precious Zilean here."  
"You!" Ahri turned, and snarled. "Keep Grandpa out of this!"

"Oh, you call him Grandpa?" LeBlanc let out a high laugh. "How very touching. All the more reason not to run, yes?"  
Pantheon walked up to Ahri, and put a hand on her shoulder. He barely had to lift his hand to do it. He could see the fury in Ahri's eyes at LeBlanc's proclamation, and he could see the fire in the fox's gaze. But he could also feel the horror in his gut. The fire is easier to extinguish, Pantheon judged, but not by much.  
"Ahri. Something is coming, and it… it'll destroy us."  
The fox did not speak. She simply stood, silent, staring into the ground as if she intended to melt it. Everything feel quiet as she contemplated what Pantheon had said.  
"So you're saying, 'leave Zilean'" Ahri said, coldly. "Leave Grandpa to die. Because something's coming."  
"Yes…" Zilean breathed, hoarse with desperation.  
"Yes," Pantheon's silence said, as he felt the weight in his gut grow heaver and heavier.  
"Fine," Ahri stated bluntly, to practically everyone's surprise. "Fine." She turned to fixed Pantheon with her strongest stare. "Something coming, right?" She seemed to shrink into herself for a moment. Her shoulders tensed, and her hair rose a bit.

"Foxes' can't love, you know that?" Ahri shook with rage. Her tails started swirling out in every direction. "When I first came here, in the inside, I was a fox, even though I looked human."  
Her fists clenched.  
"Yi rescued me. I became human because I love. So tell me... tell me how could I even THINK about leaving Grandpa here, then?! BECAUSE I'M NOT A FOX! I LOVE HIM!"  
Ahri exploded, howling.  
"SOMETHING'S COMING?! THEN I'LL KILL IT! I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL KILL THEM ALL!" Ahri turned and scraemed to the sky, leaving all bystanders to believe that she had gone insane. They weren't wrong. Pantheon could see a spark of flame in her eyes, and for a second, he saw her potential. He believed her. For Zilean… for everything, she would destroy the world. A twinge ran up his spine.

Then, his good sense took over, so he stepped forward, clubbed Ahri lightly with his shield, and caught her. Ahri slumped forwards, stunned.  
Pantheon hefted Ahri onto his shoulders.  
"Oi, where do you think you're going?" LeBlanc called out, twirling her staff.  
"You think we're just going to let you walk out?" Rengar growled, his face still broken and bleeding.  
Pantheon stood stoically, faced with the two foes. He was burdened, having picked up Ahri, and now Annie, in his arms. Could he actually escape?  
"Guess again!" Rengar roared, and the Pridestalker leapt at Pantheon, clearly seeking revenge for his facial injury.

What must never be underestimated is a Rakkor's pride. No matter how squashed it is, they have an overwhelming culture of dominance. To even consider the idea of retreat was heresy, yet Pantheon emerged as an actual advocate for it. His pride, Pantheon's honor as a Rakkor, was beaten and suppressed in interest of self-preservation, because to live, he would have to resist the instinct to charge head-long into Master Heian. He suppressed his very identity.

Yet his pride still lived, and laid waiting eagerly for a chance to break out.

All of the Rakkor's frustration at having to run away, all of the indignation and injuries to his pride that the Rakkor suffered, exploded in the manifested form of Pantheon's whirling shield. Pantheon took every bit of disgrace and dishonor lodged in his heart, and smashed Rengar's face in with it. Rengar dropped to a knee, while the Rakkor turned away.

Pantheon tilted his helmet at LeBlanc. Cold, hard eyes drilled into the Deceiver, daring her to try to stop him, too.

_Well? Will you?_

"Oh, I won't," LeBlanc said, waving. "He will."  
Pantheon's eyes widened, as he realized who LeBlanc was talking about. The Rakkor turned to face Master Heian, now only a hundred feet away.  
"You should have run..." Master Heian called out, his sword now at his side. "When you had the chance."

The Rakkor took an involuntary step back. Normally, with such a dangerous opponent, the Rakkor would skirt outside of the enemy's kill radius, and formulate a strategy from behind the safety of his shield. But there was the problem. Heian's kill radius, Pantheon sensed, enveloped them three or four times in. There was nowhere to run. Before Pantheon could even think of what to do next, Master Heian leapt, and in the blink of an eye, the Wuju master had covered more than half the hundred feet between them, his sword already flying through the air. The Rakkor could only raise his hand, a last act of futility before his swift, dark end—

The Rakkor waited.

It never came.

To the side, Zilean crushed the sapphire crystal in his hands, giving the aged wizard, for an instant, a small burst of power. He slowly got up. The Chronokeeper raised his shackled hands. His palms started glowing, and with the last of his power, Zilean stopped everything. Absolutely. Everything.

Master Heian hung suspended in mid-air, his long beard frozen in a twisted trail behind him. LeBlanc was in the middle of launching a sigil of silence straight at Pantheon's back. If the Dark Wuju master did not kill the Rakkor, the Deceiver wanted to make sure that she would. Crimson drops of blood floated like red pearls; streaming from Rengar's broken face. Pantheon stared about at the spectacle. He turned to the Chronokeeper, the only other being in the world that was not suspended in mid-motion. Zilean was lying in a heap in the midst of a world of statues. He had spent the last of his energy to freeze time. The Artisan of War wasted no time with empty thanks. With speed rivaling Master Yi's, the Rakkor sped away from the certain death that awaited them in the hall, and on the edge of Master Heian's sword.

* * *

To Master Heian, it seemed as if the Rakkor had simply disappeared. No, more than that. The huge man had simply popped out of existence. The abrupt disappearance of Heian's target caused an excessively loud SNAP as the air rushed into back into the hole where Pantheon just was. His target gone, Heian dropped lightly back onto the stone floor. His gaze travelled to the Mage of Time, Zilean. The frail old man lay in a bundled heap on the ground, exhausted. The shattered remains of a sapphire lay twinkling like glass on the stone.

LeBlanc strode up the Zilean, a forced grimace on her face.  
"Old fart had a trick up his sleeve." She pulled the Chronokeeper up by the collar, pulling the limp man up until she was looking face-to face with him. "I'm impressed, Chronokeeper. You managed a spell even with those mana burning chains. We might have to do something special for someone as dangerous as you."  
LeBlanc leaned in closer, until Zilean could feel her rose scented breath on his face. "You won't enjoy it," She hissed.

"I don't care," Zilean breathed back, "Ahri… she's safe now." At this, LeBlanc stood up, and turned to the injured Pridestalker. Rengar was impatiently sniffing about, aggravated.  
"Rengar." LeBlanc ordered, eyes narrowed. "Grab some other champions to go with you, and prove the Chronokeeper wrong." Rengar growled in affirmation, and slunk back into the shadows. It was clear as day that the Pridestalker was thirsty for revenge.

_Good, _LeBlanc noted, i_t'll make him that much more dangerous._

"Master," LeBlanc picked up her staff, and twirled it in her hand. "Will we have to alter the plan?"  
"…." Master Heian sheathed his sword, slinging it back over his back. "No. Continue gathering the Nexi, and corrupting the champions. We move forwards." The Wuju master strode out the hall. He would not fail.  
"And as for you-" LeBlanc raised her staff as she snapped at Zilean—

* * *

"I'm sorry." Her tears were gone. Her rage spent. Ahri got up. The three were sitting on the steps of the cavernous stairwell to the depths of the Institute. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and turned to face her friends. "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I'm sorry, Annie. I'm sorry, Pantheon."

Her companions wordlessly accepted her apologies. They got up, too.

"Let's go to the Phoenix Sun."  
She had decided. She would seize her destiny that Yi and ZIlean had set before her. She would make the sacrifices of all of her friends and loved ones worth something. She would become the Phoenix Sun. But instead of breaking out of the Institute, there would be a change in plans.  
Once she could, she would rescue Zilean.

"Wait for me, Grandpa. I'm coming"  
They plunged into the depths.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

They walked into Hell.

"What…" Ahri murmured, as she stepped to the blue shield in front of her. She, Pantheon, and Annie, were standing at the entrance to the League's secret arena. It was the battleground of Seven Blazes, a hidden testing ground designed to weed out the worst of the League's rejects. It was the Magma Chamber. "What is this?" She brushed the shield that separated the world from the hellish pit before them.

Directly on the other side sat a man. He was thick and stocky, and wrapped from head to toe in jet-black clothes. Twin Ninjato, blades of the ninja, were strapped crossed over each other to his strong back. A mask shrouded his face, with only the slightest bit of sweat dripping down from the base of the faceguard. He sat facing away from the blue shield, waiting. Guarding. Fulfilling his solemn duty.

"…Shen!" Ahri pushed up against the shield, and called out, loudly, "SHEN!"

The Kinkou did not respond. Still he sat without moving a muscle, bathing in the murderous heat; motionless in the waves of fire and flame. Seeing him sit so stilly, Ahri feared the worst.

"SHENN!" She cried, pounding on the shield, "SHENNNN! SHENNN-"

Then a visceral roar cut her off.

RAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!

Shen stood up, twisted about in the blink of the eye, drew his blade, and swung violently at the shield in one fluid motion. Even separated from Shen, Ahri could feel the force of his Ki Strike resonate the barrier. She stumbled back in surprise, away from the fierce man on the other side of the wall. She stumbled away from her friend. Annie started to cry. Pantheon raised his weapons. Shen slumped down, the point of his sword fruitlessly rammed into the shield. Even with all of his force, he did not even make a scratch. Shen seemed to almost fall back down. Somehow, he managed to clumsily fold his legs in a sitting position, and he turned back to the scorching heat of the Magma Chamber.

"Duty…. I…."

"Shen…."

"…."

Ahri hung her head. There was nothing she could do. Yet.

"Pantheon, Annie. Let's go." She turned around sharply, waving her hand back into the stairwell. Her dumbfounded companions trudged after her without question.

Was this how Ahri treated her friends, Pantheon wondered, when she sees them like this? But the Rakkor had not a clue what had taken hold of Ahri then.

She knew.

There was even less reason to wait now. And it was close. She could feel it. The proximity of the Pheonix Sun was like a weight over her heart. Every step in the right direction aggravated the sense of doom she had in her gut, everything inch closer felt like a death sentence. She could almost see the orb now. It was below the Magma Chamber, the perfect place to hide a weapon with a temperature like that. The Phoenix Sun could even be what was causing the murderous heat.

There were less than a hundred steps further down, before they reached the bottom of the stairwell. It was a dank, unassuming circle of floor. Unlike the floor above them, here the air was balmy and cool. The heat disappeared, only to be left with… nothing. Before them was a heavy iron door. It was flanked by two dimly lit torches, the first that the party had encountered on their journey downwards. This troubled Ahri deeply. For the torches to be still lit, someone must have started them… and recently.

Regardless, with effort, she pushed the door open.

The metal hinges swung open without a sound.

They stepped in.

* * *

Inside, a being stirred.

He did not normally sleep. Yet recent events had made it wise to him to spend some length of time conserving his energy. The Phoenix Sun was getting restless. It's keeper, it's wielder, it's heir was drawing near. And he could never let that happen. Not again. Still, he remembered that moment, that single, awful moment so many eons ago in Shurmia. Xerath thought back to that fateful day.

_ Impossible._

_ He had been defeated. Only an instant after he had finally achieved everything._

_Tabia… I'm sorry._

_A tall, handsome Ionian man was standing over him, with a sickening grin plastered all over his face. He wore his hair long and unstyled, until it dropped to his waist like a woman's. His head was crowned with a tall, black cap that only served to lengthen the man's already long appearance. Thick, wide robes swamped his body in their embrace. In the palm of his hand, he cradled a blazing second sun, and perhaps the only source of magic in all of Runeterra that could rival Xerath's own._

_Xerath lay defeated, in his newly acquired body of light and thunder, wrapped in his foe's seal like a dog._

_"Finally," the Ionian man chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "That was one hell of a fight you put up."_

_An incredible understatement. Half the Shurmian mages brought in to detain him were now nothing more than blackened corpses on the stone floor. Of another quarter, there was no trace left. Singlehandedly, Xertah had crippled the Shurmia's entire Court of Magicians. He could have brought down the entire kingdom if he wanted to. But… because of HIM, if only he had managed to kill HIM, the Acendant raged, that cursed-borne Sealmaster, then victory would have been his! He was chained to the floor by two monstrously huge, flaming chains. Even in his ascendant form, even in his body of pure energy, it was not enough to break the bonds placed by the almighty, famous Sealmaster Mejai. _

_"Mejai!" growled a man, out of view. "You f*cking screw-up! Finish it already! We have lost so many already!" Mejai rolled his eyes at his friend._

_"Jeez, mother, fine." Mejai turned back to the restrained Xerath, and raised his Phoenix Sun. With his other hand, he set it in front of his chest, two fingers raised._

_"Fusion Seal: Yugo Shiru." _

_An empty sarcophagus, lain strewn behind Xerath's chained body started glowing. A casualty of their catastrophic battle in the Royal Tomb, it would now serve a much greater purpose. Xerath started struggling even more fiercely against his chains; lightning bolts shot from his body of pure energy as he screamed in anger, and thunder shook the Royal Tomb's walls, but still Mejai's chains did not break._

_"MEJAI! DAMN YOU AND DO IT ALREADY!" Xerath screamed, his voice no longer human, but deep and resonating. His voice had the resonance of God's. The Royal Tomb threatened to shake itself to pieces under Xerath's distress. "KILL ME AND BE DONE!"_

_"No," Mejai said, gathering up the energy for his seal. The Ionian's face turned serious, for the very first time. A shadow passed over Mejai's face, as his grin faded into a dark scowl. "You are far beyond death now, Xerath of Shurmia. Farewell."_

The Sarcophagus seemed to sweep up behind him, or perhaps he was dragged into the iron coffin, and then the most awful, terrifying pain overtook him. A whirlwind of metal and lightning and light and darkness flashed before what once were his eyes. It was like being thrown into a storm in a suit of armor. Then it was all over, and to Xerath, there was nothing but cold metal and chains upon chains on his magical energy. Nothing but utter blackness and the biting cold. For centuries. And centuries. And centuries.

He would never allow that again.

As soon as the heir of the Phoenix Sun came, as soon as the b*stard descendant of that Mejai came to unlock the Phoenix Sun, he would kill him. He would kill him and then turn him into ashes and scatter the ashes with magical explosions until there was nothing left of him but a whiff of soot and a settling of dust. He would then burn the air away for miles around until every living thing choked their last. Then he glass the entire area with thunder and flame. He would leave nothing of Mejai behind. This Xerath swore.

He would never allow it again.

Never again.

* * *

She stepped into the Phoenix Sun's chamber. The dark room was carved out of black stone, circular in shape, surrounding a high altar in the center. Seated on the altar's mouth was a single, black stone the size of a beach ball. Thick metal chains strapped the stone down onto its chantry, giving the impression that the pedestal was imprisoning, not enshrining its occupant. Heat radiated off of the stone, but only a gentle breeze of it. It was soothing.

She set Annie down.

"Be careful," She whispered to the child. Ahri herself did not know what would happen once she touched the stone. Annie gave her a tight hug, and swiftly let go. Ahri got up, and faced the Phoenix Sun.

She stepped towards the dark stone. She circled the rock for a second, before lifting her arm. Unconsciously, she reached for it.

The sound of a faint crackling drifted up to her ears. She smelt something like burnt hair in the air.

"Ahri MOVE!" From behind, Pantheon tackled her away from the dark stone and right after, the ground she was standing on exploded in a mortal path of thunder and lightning. Ahri could feel chunks of scalding hot rock fall unto her legs as she and Pantheon went tumbling. In a flash, the two of them bounced back up.

"Mejai…" A hollow, artificial voice drifted in. "You come again. What the Ravages of Time have not killed yet, I WILL!"

A blue-white glow erupted from a shadowy corner of the Phoenix Sun chamber. And at the center of the corner, in the midst of the glow, floated something like a man. It was formed of light and lightning, with only chunks and shards of some ancient sarcophagus barely holding it together. Or back. Claws of lights wrapped about the ends of its "arms", and a triangular chunk of coffin formed what could only be called its head. Narrow slits in that chunk formed its "eyes".

It was the Ascendant Magus. It was Xerath.

_This was bad,_ Ahri realized. There was an extremely short list on those champions who could be considered to potentially be called the strongest of the all, and Xerath was always on it. He was rumored to have traded his life and mortality for untold, infinite amounts of power at his disposal. Normal champions couldn't even dream of ever achieving such strength.

She tried diplomacy first.

"Xerath…" She carefully tempered her tone as neutral as she could. Ahri raised her hand cautiously, and slowly edged towards the dark stone. "We're not enemies. We just need the Phoenix Sun. Then we'll go."

"That…" Xerath rasped, "I will never allow happening."

"You mean it?"

"You will never imprison me again, Mejai." Lightning bolts started shooting out from Xerath's body as he floated closer and closer. His body started glowing even brighter. "The Phoenix Sun will stay locked away forever, as I burn away ever trace of your being, until there is nothing left BUT DUST AND ASHES!"

Ahri spun to the dark stone, but not before Xerath unleashed another river of lightning that cut Ahri off from the Phoenix Sun and sent her skipping back. Another bolt of energy rocketed over her shoulder, singing her hair, and sending her back, clutching her face. The very air had turned scorching in less than a second.

Another beam of lightning shot towards her, and she was forced further and further back. Every step was a mistake away from a fiery death.

"…think!" Ahri muttered, "Xerath… he's an invoker!"

_"Invokers," Zilean droned on, to the snoozing Ahri. He tapped a stick on the rocks of the Proving Grounds, punctuating every phrase with a sharp tap on the stone. "Are the most destructive of all mages, but they are in particular vulnerable to Manipulative magic."_

_He glanced up, and saw that she was fast asleep, drooling all over a purple melee minion who was enjoying his situation perhaps a bit too much. He sighed, and closed his eyes in annoyance. His stick floated up, hovering to his side. He levitated the chunk of wood over Ahri's dozing skull. The staff paused for a second, before tapping Ahri on the head ._

_Her eyes flickered open._

_"Wh-Whoa!" Ahri scrambled up, and let loose a small blast of invocative magic from her hands at the drifting stick, but before the burst of energy could blow the stick away, it flipped over her head, over the blast of magic. The rod spun once in the air, before colliding bodily with the crown of her head. Ahri's skull broke._

_ "…!"_

_She crumpled as she clutched at the stick-shaped dent in her head._

_"That is how. Invokers are only powerful in the area where they can project, which Manipulators can exploit. Manipulators naturally have more range on their abilities because they use a concrete, material vessel as their medium, and can use this, combined with their inherently high control to out-maneuver invokers with their magic."_

"Pantheon!" She called, crouching.

"Aye!" Pantheon drew his arm back, drawing all his strength. With a shout, and a ferocious swing, the spear leapt out of his hand, shooting towards Xerath like a bullet.

"Futile!" Xerath swept his arm in a backhand, letting loose a wave of thunder that burned the javelin down to ash in an instant. Yet behind the point of the spear, was something else. A whirling, swirling, spinning magical orb of death.

Ahri's orb slammed into Xerath's chest, pushing and driving the Magus Ascendant back.

"Raggh!" Xerath swept his arms at the orb, as if to swat away a persistent fly, but before Xerath could punish Ahri's magical orb with another wave of lightning, Ahri swept her orb away, manipulating her weapon to a safe place. Yet again she drove her orb onto Xerath, sending it zipping about the magus, dodging wave after wave of lightning that thundered from his hands, and striking solid hits where ever she could. With each strike, a dull thud echoed through the hall, and past Xertah's screams of frustration.

"Ha! Can't hurt what you can't hit, invoker!" Ahri recalled her orb, and, with her hands out to her side, spun it over the back of her arms and shoulders. She was practically showing off at this point. "I've got you figured out, Xerath!"

The Magus fell silent. Lightning crackled softly in the background.

"Do you?"

The thunder ceased its roar. The lightning stopped crackling. The room fell silent. Pantheon looked about in apprehension as the room rapidly grew darker. Xerath's body supplied most of the light in the chamber, and now the Magus Ascendant had dimmed to a dull glow. His helm swiveled to face Ahri.

"Ahri…"

"I know. We can't get cocky."

Ahri gathered all of her energy, focusing it into her orb. A high-pitched whirring replaced the snaps and cracks of lightning as her spirit orb shone brighter and brighter, filling the room once more with a blue-white light. "This'll end it."

She crouched low, cupping her orb with the palm of one hand. Blue smoke and cold fire sparked all over her, lighting Ahri in an inferno. This was her ultimate enhancement, Spirit Dash, condensed and stored in her body, until the magical pressure in her was so great, it burst out of her in uncontrolled gouts of fire and smoke and ice. Trembling with energy, she leaned forwards, her orb still cupped in her hands.

"This is the Spirit Orb and the Spirit Dash combined! Rashuanhan!"

She launched forwards, drawing her orb in front of her, flame and smoke and thunder licking her feet. Her Spirit dash accelerated her to ridiculous speeds, while the orb tore up everything in front of her, forcing the Magus Ascendant back with its enormous magical pressure. Right before the orb was to collide with his body, Xerath raised his claws, and held them in front of him, shielding him. It was no move of desperation. Xerath leaned forwards.

"You call that magic?" Xerath's claws started glowing the slightest bit brighter. "I'll show you true magic."

She thrust her orb forwards, and into Xerath's claws. The Magus' hands shook and trembled violently, rattling as he fought to keep Ahri's magic contained. If he were made of flesh and blood, his bones would have shattered long ago, and his meat turned to a soft, bloody stew.

But he was NO mortal! And this was no HUMAN'S body!

Xerath's hands glowed brighter and brighter, until his hands managed to out-shine the brilliance of Ahri's charged Spirit Orb. The fox shielded her eyes from the light as everything was engulfed in radiance. Xertah turned white, Pantheon turned white, the Pheonix Sun turned white; everything turned a pure and brilliant white, like blindness.

Then it was done.

Clutched in Xerath's arms was Ahri's orb. Her precious weapon, her magical medium, was no in Xerath's clutches. Futilely, she tried to call her precious orb back. It refused her beckon; it still spun obediently in the Magus Ascendant's claws.

"Didn't your teacher teach you anything? Enhancers are strong against manipulators."

_"Enhancers can enhance their body's defenses as well," Zilean murmured in the back of Ahri's head, "Rendering the relatively weaker power of Manipulators ineffective. Doesn't matter how much you dance about your foe if when you hit them, if it does nothing."_

"Then… your body glowing dimmer…. Your light fading…. It was an enhancement? You're an enhancer, too?"

Xerath lifted Ahri's orb in his claws, until her precious item twisted and bent itself into a wicked, sharpened shape. Her poor orb seemed to scream as it was forced out of shape, and into Xerath's will. The wicked orb floated about Xerath in so many flips and patterns that Ahri quickly lost track of its movement. Such control… she realized, with a pit in her gut, could only be achieved by one with expert talent in Manipulative magic.

"Invocation, Manipulation, Enhancement," Xerath, with his left arm, spun the wicked orb around his hand with virtuoso control. With his right arm, lightning and thunder crackled eagerly out of each of his fingertips, striking mini-craters in the hard rock with its buckling power. Finally, his entire body shone and rippled with the sort of level of enhancement energy that Zilean mentioned comes about perhaps once in a millennia. "…I master it all."

"And now, Mejai," Xerath's eyes started glowing red, and every bit of his body writhed and trembled as if each separate piece of him came alive, "Nothing will save you."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Invocation.

Xerath raised his hands, and swept them forwards at her. Strings of static strung their way through her body, raising pins and needles all over his skin. It was an electrifying precursor to the deadly blast that would erupt right after. She dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the river of lightning and thunder by inches. Once again, Xerath's Arcanopulse blasted another smoldering trough into the black stone floor of the Pheonix Sun's altar room.

Manipulation

Xerath, with his other arm, sent Ahri's very own orb spinning after. The irony was almost lost on her as she kept on dodging for her life. Xerath had stolen her orb from her, and twisted its shape to form instead some crueler, more vicious sort of spiked ball. Like Zilean taught her, Ahri tried to timing the inevitable impacts with her own orb by flooding her body with magical energy, mimicking an enhancer's defenses. But the Magus Ascendant was simply too powerful, and she was no true enhancer. Her own orb battered her bloody in its traitorous onslaught.

Augmentation

As soon as Ahri fell back, clutching a deep wound that left her clutching her head and her face bloody, Pantheon moved in to cover her. He nimbly dodged the Magus' flood of invocation, closing the distance between the two in but a few leaps and bounds.  
Ahri's orb shot straight for Pantheon's head as he side-stepped yet another Mage Chains. One twitch of the Rakkor's massive shield, and the spiked orb ricocheted off of the Rakkor's protection, letting out a dull ringing that echoed past the crackling of lightning and thunder. Pantheon grunted with exertion as he took the force of the blow into his shield. The shock numbed his body, and nearly froze him long enough to eat a face-full of Arcanopulse.

His warrior's instinct took over, and despite the lack of feeling in any part of his body, he crouched just soon enough to avoid death. His feathered crest was not so lucky. Half of it was burned away by the magical strike.

"Huoh!"  
With an underhand throw, Pantheon managed to toss a spear straight at the Magus. The spear flew in between waves of magic, and straight at the Ascendant's face.

It never reached him.

Before the javelin could reach Xerath, lightning coursed through the air above his skin, and burned away the missile to ash. Nothing but a handful of soot graced Xerath's body, and soon, even that was peeled away in flakes of glass.

Ahri slumped against the wall of the altar room, trying to wipe the blood from her eyes. She bumped into Annie, who was shying away from the deadly fight before her eyes.  
"Annie…" Ahri put at hand around the child. "We need your help."  
The toddler nodded, and transferred her bear to her front. She hugged Tibbers, like Ahri hugged her.

"Tibbers!"  
"Pantheon!" Ahri called out, standing up. She drew to herself her Spirit Dash once more. Smoke started to gather at her feet as her magical energy pooled in her body. The edges of her vision were turning white with light once more. "Now!"

Pantheon grabbed his bundle of javelins, and with a single heave, flung the entire stack. The wrapping paper unraveled, and every last one of them spread out in a storm of spearpoints racing towards Xerath. Xerath gathered a wave of magic to burn the spears away to ash once more, but something stopped him.

Tibbers stopped him.

Blowing away both the Magus, and the storm of spears, the demon bear exploded into being right in the midst of the battle. Xerath growled with annoyance as he floated himself upright again. The Magus Ascedant still was not harmed.

"We'll change that," muttered Ahri. "Pantheon, go!"

The Rakkor charged the recovering Xerath. He swept his shield forwards, blocking Xerath's blind Arcanopulse. They were twenty feet apart at this point. Crouching behind his shield, Pantheon charged the Magus. A Mage Chains' rocketed off of Pantheon's Aegis, scalding his unprotected legs, and causing even his relic shield to heat up to the point of searing, but still he charged. He was ten feet away now.

Xerath charged up his body with magic; lightning coursed off of the chunks of sarcophagus, hardening the lumps of metal until they tempered harder than diamond. A field of electricity shot out all around Xerath, repelling everything, making even walking towards the Magus a feat. Pantheon struggled his way to five feet away.

The Rakkor swept his arm back. Gold particles started to collect in his almost-clenched hand. The light-borne shards started to form a lance.  
"Spike of Lacedaemon! Lance of Zeonia!"

Pantheon's true relic weapon hardened, dropping lightly into his hands. For a nanosecond, Pantheon savored the feel of his ancestor's holy spear, how it's rough wood gripped perfectly in the hands, or how the lance found perfect balance practically no matter where you held it. He imagined its light weight, yet weighty thrust once more.  
He struck into Xerath.  
The point entered the Magus. It cracked his body for an instant.  
The Magus glanced down at the injury.  
He casually swept his arms in front of him.

Then he blew everything back with a monstrous burst of energy. The contained power was like a miniature storm. Tibbers was launched back as if he weighed no more than a doll; the shadow bear slammed into a pillar, crushing the support into dust in an instant. Pantheon was pushed back from behind his shield, all the way past the twenty feet of distance that he had worked so hard to gain, and into the wall. The Rakkor was smashed against the wall, and then he fell to a knee. Annie was lying on the floor, completely still.

Only Xerath remained, alone, standing.

"And…" Xerath turned to face the center of the room "I haven't forgotten you, Mejai."  
Ahri took the opening created by Pantheon to Spirit Dash to the dark stone chained on the altar in the center of the room. By the time Pantheon was blown back, she was a yard away from touching the stone with her out-stretched hand, smoke and thunder speeding her along from the power of her Spirit Dash. She thought she had an opening. There was no opening. The Magus Ascendant was omnipotent.

From above, an explosion of magic struck Ahri like an artillery shell. The impact blew her back from the stone. It felt like she was being simultaneously punched and burned all over her body. Only a last-minute enhancement saved her from being burned away into blackened ashes right then. Smoking, burning, and broken, Ahri tumbled from the Arcane Barrage, defeated. She rolled to a stop in a heap, on the other side of the room.

"Nothing will save you now, Mejai." murmured Xerath. A cloud of lightning and thunder was gathering in a circle above the fox. Another Arcane Barrage was starting to form over Ahri. This one would punch through her pitiful enhancements like a rock through paper. For this one, there was no blocking. A fist of bolts and light had been born. "Nothing… will…"

She opened her eyes a crack. In the center of her narrow vision rested the dark stone. There rested the Phoenix Sun. She closed her eyes again.

* * *

_"Why do you want to join the League, Ahri?"_

_She was sitting, crouched in the forest. Tears, for the first time in her life, had rolled unbidden down her cheeks. Her hands were planted on the bare chest of a dead young man. His hair was tossed, and messy, and his face carrying traces of boyishness, but he was beautiful. His shirt was unbuttoned down to its fifth hole, which the youth had done himself; a side effect of Ahri's seduction spell was an extreme infatuation. Now, the youth, with his soul drained, lay perfectly still, a slight smile on his face. He never knew what killed him._

_The reason she had suddenly started crying was because the young man's sister, still a prepubescent girl, had wandered out into the forest, walking up a mountain path that was nearby where she lured the youth. Her pigtails bounced about, as she clumsily ran up the forest path, calling the youth's name, bidding the young man to come home for dinner. Guilt, an entirely new and alien emotion for her, had struck her in the gut like a hammer. She had killed someone else's love._

_The youth blinked his eyes at her, and repeated the question in the female summoner's voice that entirely did not fit him._

_"Why do you want to join the League, Nine Tailed Fox?"_  
_Ahri looked up, struggling to wipe away the tears that would not stop flowing. She was angry now. This… this was PRIVATE! She spat out the first answer that came to mind._  
_"To become human!"_

_"That you could have done that without us." The youth sighed, and held his hands behind his head, laying back. "Why do you want to join the League?"_  
_"F*ck you!" Ahri snarled, dripping tears down her cheeks. "I'm not allowed to feel sorry!? I'm not allowed to care about humans? I want to join the League because I'm horrified by THIS!" She flung her arms at the continually searching little girl, who infinitely skipping up the mountain path, and was now repeating her lines like a broken record. "I don't want this to ever happen AGAIN!"_  
_The youth closed his eyes._  
_"That's closer, but not quite."_

_Ahri sat back, thinking. Her tears were starting to dry on her face. _

_"To be who I truly am," She replied, but still the youth shook his head. He did so more softly this time._

_"No," he whispered. "But you are close, so close."_

_"..." She looked up. "I want to be someone decent... someone good enough... someone who heaven might say deserves to be loved."_


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**_  
_

_"This… this is it?"_

_She stepped onto a bed of lush green wild rice, matted down by the travels of dozen of wild animals that lived in the depths of the mountain forest that surrounded Yi's village. Or what was left of it. Ahri had been expecting blackened ruins, bones strewn about the ground, and blood-stained dirt. She had half-expecting the ghosts of Yi's village to burst from the ground in mindless anger._

_But she was completely, utterly wrong. It… it was beautiful._

_The stone steps they had climbed had only a few weeds sprouting through their cracks. There was a gentle breeze, kissed with mist, as the wind picked up flecks of water from the waterfall that roared on the other side of a cliff, opposite of where the small cottages of Yi's village used to stand proudly. The terraced fields still grew wild maize and rice on their numerous platforms. The crops were constantly watered by the mists of the waterfall across, and therefore grew bursting at the seams with a bountiful harvest._

_Ahri reached down, and picked a small ear of maize. She peeled back part of the husk, and took a small bite._

_Tears came to her eyes. It was so sweet. It was so good._

_There were no blackened ruins. No fields of bones. The people of Ionia did their best to clean up the ghosts of the past. The blackened timbers were scattered, the dirt purified and turned over, and the bones matched back to their owners as best they could, and buried with blessings. No more cottages stood. No more farmers worked tirelessly in the fields. There was only a young meadow, fields of delicious wild harvest, and a small, solemn graveyard, with row after row of unmarked posts. Even that gentle reminder of death was beautiful in such a place._

_"Welcome to home, Ahri." Yi strode through the fields of rice, feeling the ripening heads with his right hand. In his left hand, he held the Dragon Rising with a loose grip. "What do you think?"_

_She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Her mouth seemed to be filled with cotton, and her vision started to blur. Confused, she looked down, only to see fresh spots of tears fall from her eyes, and splash onto the ground at her feet. She realized then… she was weeping. She fell to her knees._

_It… it was so beautiful… and…Singed destroyed it all…_

_"…I am so sorry."_

_Yi sighed, and crouched. He put a comforting hand on Ahri's shoulder._

_"Come. Let's go meet my wife."_

_"I'm glad, though." Ahri murmured as they walked. "Even Singed couldn't destroy everything."_

_They walked over to the graveyard. Hundreds of posts stood solemnly in a grid, each guarding their occupant until time would die. Yi stopped in front of one particular unmarked post. Ahri didn't see why. There was nothing to distinguish it from the dozens of other posts in the ground around it. Yi kneeled down, and bowed to the post._

_"How… do you know…"  
Yi didn't answer. He looked back up. He looked up at Ahri._

_"I don't know." He gently gripped Ahri's hand, and put another on the post. He slowly pulled the two together. "I feel. Ahri, this is Rixa. Rixa was my last wife from my village." He placed his hand over Ahri's and onto the post. "Rixa, this is Ahri."_

_Ahri looked back down at the post. Did Yi really feel that this was her? But…_

_She hurriedly pushed back her doubts. She wanted to do this. Ahri closed her eyes, and tried to connect with the deceased woman. She closed her eyes, and let her hand feel the smooth, cool, white wood that was the essence of Rixa. She fell silent for a long, long time as she meditated. The wind grew colder, and she shivered a bit, but she stayed stock still, almost as if she was praying._

_After a while, she let go. Yi turned to her._

_"What did you say?" _

_Ahri turned to Yi. She gave a small smile._

_"…I said, 'Thank you'"_

* * *

The lightning was growing stronger. She could feel the hairs on her skin raise in response to the energy Xerath had gathered above. Death was near. Yet, she didn't seem to mind. She slowly got up on all fours, closer and closer to that ball of thunder above her. She could barely see Xerath through the sheet of black hair that hung in front of her eyes as she raised her head. Her hands balled into fists.

_I am not afraid.__ I will not be afraid._

* * *

_"Come here, Ahri." Yi held out his hands, both of them, palms upwards to the blue sky. Ahri gave it only a moment's hesitation, before putting her hands in his. "I want to show you something else. Hold your breath."_

_He seemed to be turning gold. Light shone through Yi as it seemed as if he was fading away into the sunlight. Then Ahri glanced down back at her arms in shock. She was disappearing, too! Ahri almost leaped back with surprise, but Yi held his grip firm._

_"Don't be afraid. Trust me." _

_She inhaled sharply as the golden glow traveled up to her shoulder, but she kept his hands in hers. She wanted to do this. Her hands were fading away, her arms shifting and turning as clear as crystal. She instinctively craned her neck up as the glow collared her neck._

_"Trust me." _

_She needed an awful lot of that, she felt. It was extremely unnerving to see your body change, but to not feel a beat in difference. She took a deep breath as the golden glow reached her eyes… and then the whole world turned inside out. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight. The sun shone a brilliant black, the grass was scarlet red, and the waterfall poured out ink by the gallon from its maw. The air shone golden in contrast to a jet-black sky. Yi let go of her hands, to let Ahri explore. _

_"This…" Ahri exhaled, as she strode through the brilliant crops, and the multi-colored harvest, "This is…"_

_"This is the Wu," Yi smiled, walked up behind her. "And there's more. Look behind you."_

_Ahri turned, and the sight made her heart stop once more._

_His village._

_The cottages of Yi's village were built on terraces, like their fields. It lent their village a look as if they had built it onto the sides of the mountain itself. Smoke rose steadily from the dozens of chimneys that sprouted from the straw thatched roofs of the cottages, and eventually faded away into the cool breeze and the light. There were people, too. Farmers tilled merrily in their fields, breaking up the few clots of earth left on the ground with their hoes, as their children trotted behind trains of oxen trailing plows. The youngest of all scattered the seeds into the rows, to sow the next generation of fruits and plant; to prepare for the next harvest._

_"They're…. they're all here!" Ahri turned excitedly to Yi. "Does this mean… they're still alive, in the Wu?!"_

_Yi fell silent. He looked down, a small frown on his face._

_"The Wu… it is only an illusion, Ahri. Everything in here is. The Wu is the polar opposite of our world, but it also mirrors our deepest and darkest desires." Yi gazed out at the village. "This is my illusion. I dream of seeing my village once more, so this was born in the Wu."_

_Yi turned back down, sadly, as the illusion-villagers started to stream out of their cottages to greet Yi._

_"Because of my desires, I have trapped my kinsmen in this world. Their ghosts will not move on unless this place in the Wu disappears."_

_"How do we do that?"_

_Yi did not miss Ahri's choice of pronouns. He smiled again, as the first of the villagers came within shouting distance._

_"By bringing this into the real world. I want this, Ahri. I want to live in my village again, with villagers and students and family. I want to pass on my Wuju school to Wukong, and watch him grow in his journey to master Wuju. I want to settle down here, and grow even older and die. And I want to do it with you."_

_Yi glanced behind him._

_"Ah, this is her, Ahri."_

_Yi stepped to the side. Then Ahri saw her. Rixa. She approached the illusion, her hands trembling. The illusionary woman opened her mouth, and started speaking, but Ahri couldn't hear what she was saying. Ahri drew closer._

_"She's beautiful."_

_She spoke again, and this time, Ahri could read her lips._

_Thank you, too, Rixa said. She stretched out her hand to Ahri, but it never reached her._

_Rixa started fading as Yi and Ahri shifted back into the real world. Black stripes swallowed up the village, replacing it once more with lush, wild green grass, bare platforms and foundations, and a rushing white waterfall. They woke up from their shared dream._

* * *

Pantheon started yelling, as Xerath's ball started to descend. Ahri was still on all fours, gazing at something in the distance as her death rushed down on her from above. Her back glowed with light as the Arcane Barrage shone with its icy cold light. Ahri heard his yells, and glanced at the frantic Rakkor. She gave him a reassuring smile, from behind the sheet of black hair covering her face, and from behind the bolts of lightning that now engulfed her.

"Don't be afraid. Trust me."

She started to glow gold.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Annie started crying. Her mournful wail cut loudly through the crackle of lightning and thunder, as the aftermath of Xerath's Arcane Barrage burned off of the floor like a thunderous carpet. There was no trace of Ahri. Only a blanket of light and thunder that clung to the spot of the chamber was left. And that, too, was rapidly melting away to reveal only a whitened patch of tile beneath. The Magus Ascendant stood facing the remnants of what was once his hated foe. He clenched his claws together in silent satisfaction.

"Ah…" Annie leaned her head back, bawling. "Wahhhh-!"

Pantheon put a hand on the child's head.

"Don't cry." The Rakkor turned to gaze elsewhere from the fading patch of light and thunder, a grin hidden in the depths of his helmet. He let out a small bark of laughter. "HA! I can't believe it. …She's alive."

* * *

Ahri looked about. She was in the Wu again. The Chamber of the Phoenix Sun shone a brilliant white, as in here; it seemed to be carved from the purest marble. Pillars guarded the outer ring of the circular room, giving way to a slow, sloping pit that ended in a proud altar housing the ultimate magical weapon. At the center, the Phoenix Sun blazed with an orange-red glow. Pantheon and Annie were crouched together off to the side, frozen in time as she walked through so many dimensions.

She turned to look at Xerath. She was almost not surprised at his appearance. Where in the real world, he was a being of pure energy, and near-infinite power, in the Wu, he was nothing. His frail arms supported delicate, withered hands; all attached to a wasted an emaciated body that was floating on small puffs of energy. His hair was long, bone-white, and unkempt, and his eyes sunken and dead. His body was nearly a skeleton. His legs were brittle sticks on a scarecrow. He was a pitiful sight.

She tore her eyes away from the breathing corpse in front of her, and turned to the Phoenix Sun seated on the altar. Where in the real world, it was just a dark stone, and trapped to the altar of black stone with heavy chains, here in the Wu, it was hovering off of the white stone altar, burning and shining with the light of a second sun. She was drawn to it. Ahri held her hand out to touch it.

With this… Ahri realized… she could defeat Xerath. Easily. She could save Grandpa. She could defeat the Dark Army, crush LeBlanc, punch that Heian in the face, and put everything back to normal. In her grasp was everything she ever needed.

Her mind started trailing. She could go back to Yi. She could help him rebuild his village in the mountains and the mist. She could live a happy life in their new village, hidden in the depths of the Ionian Mountains, forever next to that beautiful waterfall and in the midst of terraces of delicious harvest. She could learn Wuju from Wukong as Yi passed his mastership to his disciple. She could have children. She could have everything.

She drew closer.

Yet as she did, a harsh, resonating voice cut in. It was the voice of Xerath.

"Mejai..!"

"Nothing will save you now, Mejai."

"Mejai…"

"I haven't forgotten you, Mejai."

"….Mejai!"

"MEJAI!"

"You will never imprison me again, Mejai."

"And now, Mejai…"

"Nothing will save you."

She pulled her hand back.

_No,_ she realized. _This was wrong._

Slowly, quietly, she let the Wu fold back from her, and she slipped back into the real world. She landed gently back down on the cool black stone, as her tails floated about her like wispy clouds. With a start, Xerath wheeled to face Ahri. He saw that she was only an arm's breadth away from the Phoenix Sun, and the cruel slits that were his eyes widened in horror.

"Mejai-"

"No." Ahri fixed Xerath with her coldest stare. The Magus shrunk back. Her hands were held clenched her sides, nowhere near the dark stone that was the Phoenix Sun. "I'm not Mejai, whoever he is."

She held up her hand, checking her nails. Slowly, she flexed each one of her fingers, running a wave through her digits. She could still move her wrists and fingers. She flexed them all out, then clenched them tightly into a fist. She brought her fist up to her face.

"I am…" She started to call forth the shimmering gold. "Ahri!"

"RAAAGH!"

Xerath seemed to fold into himself, as a bright glow shone from inside his arms. He opened the slits of light that formed his eyes, and then exploded outwards with lightning. A massive Arcanopulse, the width of nearly half of the entire chamber, cracked and smashed the stone floor of the chamber with its overwhelming power, carving a trench three feet deep into solid rock.

A split-second dive into the Wu saved her as she reappeared in another spot a few yards away.

Ahri slowly brought her hands down. She had crossed them in front of her before the explosion, and now, bits of scalding rock were dropping, one by one, off of her exposed forearms, leaving angry red marks where the burning stone rocketed into her flesh. If she hadn't lifted her arms in time, her wide eyes would be full of heated rock shards right then.

"I am Ahri, Nine Tails Fox!" She slipped into the Wu, passing through yet another Arcanopulse that rocked and shook the chamber in the real word.

"Demon of the Han-Gul Forest!" She slipped back into the real word, behind Xerath. She drew an enhanced fist back.

"Dragon of the Foxfire Desert!" Ahri socked a demigod in his ascendant face. The magically strengthened fist, combined with the penetration of her Spatial magic, left a hairline crack in the piece of sarcophagus that made up Xerath's face. Without pause, she jumped on the being of pure energy, and threw him to the ground, straddling him.

"I'm beautiful," She wrapped her fist in more magic, and smashed Xerath's face again, "Strong," The crack was starting to widen in Xerath's face. She brought her fist down like a hammer once more.

She held her arm back for a second, and smirked. "And smart, too—Achoo!"

She sneezed all over Xerath. The Magus, furious, screamed and flailed so violently that Ahri leapt up to bounce back a few yards. She crouched like a sprinter, ready for any danger.

"Snf!" She wiped the snot from her nose. "I'm not Mejai."

"I am a good person…" Getting up, Ahri slowly advanced on Xerath. "But I won't wait for heaven to gift me my good life. I'll prove that I deserve a good life by taking it myself, first."

"RAAGGH!" Xerath swung, and by his will, another Arcane Barrage formed above him, and slammed into Ahri in the blink of an eye. The room exploded with light as everything was swallowed up in the ultimate magic's radiance. Howling winds and scalding heat poured out of the center of impact, adding to the chaos that was unleashed in the chamber. The glow gradually faded from the room.

And Ahri still stood.

"You're strong," Ahri conceded. A swagger rose to her step, as she walked towards Xerath. He had completely whiffed her. She put her hands out by her sides like a dancer. She gave a little twitch of her hip, and a small smile wormed its way to her lips.

"But you missed!"

"AGGGH!"

Xerath swung once more, but he was stopped short. Ahri popped into existence right in front of him, and stopped his massive claw with one hand.

She sighed. A small note of exasperation.

"Spatial magic..." Ahri placed her hand on the Magus' lightning-filled forehead. "…requires finesse and delicacy. You have none." Xerath swept his hand in an angry motion at Ahri, like he was a frustrated child. Only this childish movement had a wave of lightning behind it to back it up. Ahri casually dodged the blanket of thunder with a tilt of her head. She didn't even have to enter the Wu for that. She fought back the urge to fake a yawn. Xerath was starting to lose focus.

It would all be over soon.

She strengthened her fist once more, and smashed Xerath to the ground.

* * *

LeBlanc and her Black Rose operatives had come across a certain master of magic one fateful day. This master gifted to them a dark crystal that could corrupt anything it touched, and bind it to their will. At first, LeBlanc thought it to be the key to their return to power. Yet, to her frustration, LeBlanc found that the strongest of all souls, Champions from the League of Legends, required so much time and energy to bind them to the corruption's power that it was effectively impossible to restrain any Champion down long enough in secrecy to fully complete the ritual.

If that wasn't enough, once corrupted to their will, they would emit black smoke that could alert a potato with a charge running through it that something was wrong.

Thus, the only conceivable situation the damn crystal could be useful is if it no longer mattered if the black smoke was visible or not. Yet the League kept a watchful, fanatical eye over nearly everything. And they were so powerful. As long as they held power, the dark crystal would be meaningless. Yet… should the day arise that the League no longer held power in the world… the potential of the Dark Crystal would be limitless.

This… was that day.

* * *

A man stood behind the shield, sheltered from the heat of the Magma Chambers. On the other side of the shield sat Shen, Eye of the Twilight and leader of the Kinkou. The ninja still sat sweltering in the heat, facing away from the new arrival. Experimentally, the man raised the sword he was carrying, and thrust into the shield.

The razor-sharp edge glanced off of the barrier harmlessly. The man frowned a bit, and then raised his sword once more. It was ribbed and rippled, like the ocean waves, lining down a slight curve that gave the edge maximum slashing power. He drew the edge until it was perpendicular to the shield that separated him from Shen. A sliver of a rip in space and time wrapped about the edge of his blade, forming a sword that could cut through anything.

And with it, the man slashed twice into the shield.

The edges fell away, leaving an opening barely large enough for a man to fit through. Scalding hot air immediately started rushing from the rip in the shield, burning the places where the man's flesh was exposed. But he ignored the heat. Slowly he reached through the shield… to Shen.

His hand drew close.

"RAAAGH!" Shen twisted around— and Yi caught his Ki strike with a single arm. The Wuju Bladesman grunted as he slid a foot back on the rock floor, pushed by back Shen's brute strength. Yi had caught Shen's right forearm in a vice-like grip, stopping the ninja's ferocious blow instantly.

"AAAGH!" Shen folded his left hand into a point, and thrust at Yi's heart—who in turn caught the bare-handed blow easily, and pulled it behind him. Shen flew through the hole in the shield, and bounced off of the rock floor as Yi threw him. The ninja bounced back up, his mind gone, his eyes blank, and running completely on instinct. Shen drew a Ninjato, a ninja sword, leveled it at Yi, and charged him blindly, screaming.

Instinct was not enough to make up for the stamina lost from days wasting away in the Magma Chamber, and complete mindlessness of Shen's movements now. Yi sidestepped the sword, and knocked Shen out with a single punch to the head. The ninja kept on running past Yi, out cold, until he collided bodily with a wall, and tumbled into a heap on the ground. Yi turned to his companions behind him.

"It's done. I'm going." Black smoke tumbled out of every crevasse of Yi's clothes, and from the opening in his wicked, six-lensed helmet. The black smoke was tireless, endless, limitless. It haunted Yi like a virulent disease. Already, the corruption was edging its way to Shen's untouched form.

Rengar growled in frustration. Behind him, more figures stood moodily behind the Pridestalker in silence. They were the hunting party formed by LeBlanc.

"What are you talking about, fool!?" Rengar sniffed noisily, looking about. He gave a hungry grin. "I smell her. Your little fox. And that damn Rakkor. We'll have them bloodied and chained by sundown!"

"Not my job." Yi lifted Shen onto his shoulder, scattering his own smoke about the room. "My programming from LeBlanc is to retrieve Shen. That's what she ordered me to do when I was corrupted. So I'm going."

Rengar growled.

"Still rebelling against your orders? Damn this cursed smoke. And curse your stupid programming. Better to slit your throat and be done with it."

Yi shrugged, and starting walking back up.

He was stopped short.

"You know…" LeBlanc spoke up, as she stepped down the staircase, cooling herself with an Ionian fan. She planted herself in between Yi and the exit. "If it's just Rengar by himself, who knows what he might do to your precious Ahri?" Yi tried to step past her, only to be blocked once more.

"He'll go wild, for sure… And when you're in the heat of battle, you know… accidents happen. A trip, a slip of the blade…." LeBlanc licked her lips as drew closer to Yi's face. "A little fox. You care about. Just. Might. Die."

"…You! Damn you!"

"Oh, I will be. But in the meantime, do your best to capture the Nine-Tailed fox." LeBlanc lifted a dark crystal that was nestled in chains by her fingers. The crystal flooded over with the corrupting smoke, in a never-ending stream of blackness and evil.

"And do it well, or I'll change your programming to, 'Kill the love of your life, and drink her blood like the finest wine'" She lightly blew on Yi's stony face. "Got it? I'll take that."

LeBlanc took Shen, as Yi spun around on his heel, marching down to the Chamber of the Phoenix Sun. Behind them, trailed even more corrupted champions. These were the champions that would crush the last of the League's resistance. These were the champions that would complete their plan.

LeBlanc smiled, heaving the unconscious ninja on her shoulder into the arms of one of her subordinates, and then sauntered lustily back up the staircase.

* * *

Ahri placed her hand directly over Xerath's chest.

"Hold still. I want to show you something." A golden glow started to surround them both. Xerath in particular was shining brighter and brighter as his magic mixed and swirled with the Wu.

"Ahri!" Pantheon shouted, as the two started to disappear from the room "We don't have a lot of time!" Ahri looked up, and she gave him a sad smile. The shining gold was causing her to fade, as she vanished into the night.

"Ok. I'll be right back."

She was gone.

* * *

Yi padded his way stealthily down the staircase to the chamber of the Phoenix Sun. He held his Dragon Rising firmly in one hand, and held his arm-affixed claw out in the other. He could hear shouting and the song of battle ringing out from the entrance. The screams of rage and explosions echoed endlessly in the wide, dark stairwell they were climbing down. They were close. Yi slid up to the edge of the doorway, without a sound. His soft boots crunched softly as he trod over bits of exploded rock that had managed to fly all the way over to here. Yi leveled his sword gently, and swung open the door. Soft light poured in as the chamber was revealed.

_Please, Ahri,_ Yi pleaded helplessly as he entered, his corrupted allies right behind him.

_Run. _

* * *

"Here is where your deepest, strongest desires are living, Xerath." Ahri stood in the middle of a ripening harvest, at the outskirts of a beautiful, mountain-embedded village hidden deep in the depths of Ionia. She was wearing a simple Cheongsam, and her hair fell simple and un-styled. Villagers worked hard in the fields around her, the men gathering the crops to store for the winter, the women weaving colorful tapestries and blankets to ward off the cold, and the children feasting on the delicious sweetness of the first picks of the harvest.

"This is the Wu, Xerath." Ahri held out a robe-sleeved arm to Xerath, who was lying on the ground. "What do you see?"

An ancient, decrepit man, looked back up at her. He was completely bald except for a thin shawl of bone-white hair that floated about his gaunt skull. His muscles were atrophied, and his bones nearly poked through his hips and shoulders. But his eyes remained alert and intelligent. Xerath of Shurmia slowly got up to look around. The ancient folded himself into a sitting position.

_His deepest desire, eh?_

He expected to see himself as a god, living in folds of space and time beyond mortal comprehension. Or perhaps he imagined himself still human, but with the knowledge of everything from the intricacies of magic to the basest physical law. But instead, he saw…

A woman stood before him. Her grab was ancient, completely unfitting to the Ionian décor of the village. Her face was handsome and beautiful, yet her eyes were soft when their gazes met.

_It can't be… _"Tabia?"

The old man sat in silence as he gazed upon the illusion.

"My god…" murmured Xerath. A frown spread onto his face. "I was wrong all of this time..?"

Ahri put a comforting, slight sarcastic hand on his shoulder.

"Were you?"

Xerath tore his gaze from the illusion, and swiveled his withered head to face Ahri.

"Don't get uppity with me, girl." The man's voice still carried weight and power. "I am still eons older and wiser than you."

"Older," Ahri stuck out her tongue. "Sure."

Xerath sighed, and turned back to face Tabia. A "tsk!" escaped his mouth as he straightened up to fix his posture. He seemed to be waiting for something. His eyes were clenched tightly as if he were in pain, and he gripped the sharp points that were his knees until his hands shivered. He sat shivering for a few moments.

"Well?" the Magus snapped, impatience creeping into his voice, "Are you going kill me now or what?"

Ahri cocked her head. At first in confusion at the outburst... and then she chuckled softly. The old man grumbled at the tinkling laughter that was winding it way to his aged ears.

"No. I want you to live. You screwed up life once. We all have. But you get a second chance. Find your happiness, find your heart, and this illusion will disappear."

She bent down, and winked.

"But it's not all bad, old man. Because that illusion will be waiting for you… in the real world."

Xerath stared off into the distance as he contemplated. Wisps of wind curled its way from the golden sky, and rustled the scarlet red head of wheat ripening in the fields.

"Go. I want to think more."

Ahri frowned at this.

"…You sure, grandpa? Until you learn Spatial magic, you won't be able to leave. And that's not for a long, long…."

"I told you don't get uppity on me!" the senior snapped once more, grinding his teeth. A growl escaped his wrinkled mouth. "I've wasted away eons. I can wait here for a few decades while I figure out myself."

Ahri stood silently as the decrepit old man shooed her away with his eyes. The two stood standing for a few moments. Eventually, Ahri gave up. Nodding, She turned and left Alone with his ghosts, Xerath turned back to Tabia, and stared at her. He was going contemplate and figure out his life. No matter how long it took.

* * *

She stepped back just in time.

Just in to see a certain someone enter the room, standing tall, a sword held tightly in his grip. His six-lensed helm glowed evilly in the darkness of the outer edges of the chamber. His sword gleamed hungrily in the light. A tentacle rooted to the base of his skull writhed frantically as it cancelled out as much noise as possible, making him virtually silent as he slowly across the circumference of the chamber to get closer to her. Finally, a cruel, arm-mounted blade glinted in the low light, following the swinging of the man's left arm as he casually advanced.

She should have been overjoyed to see him. But he was wrapped in smoke and evil, and his step had a determined, fatal ring to it. Yi, followed by three other champions shrouded in the darkness behind him, leveled his sword at Ahri.

In response, Ahri took a single step to the Phoenix Sun. Her mind was totally blank. Her poise was clam.

She reached out to touch the dark stone for the first time. As her hand drew near, the black rock peeled away from the orb inside to reveal a blazing, burning, second sun. Slowly, lightly, the Phoenix Sun floated up in response to her will. It felt perfect. She thought that maybe there would have been more emotion, more feelings to having finally reached her goal.

_In my hand is everything that I ever need,_ she tried to remind herself, but the words felt hollow in her head.

Blazing flames wormed their way around her as the Phoenix Sun ignited a fiery armor to protect her. She held the Phoenix Sun over her palm, as it hovered, ready for battle. Her tails were burning with flames as they wrapped about her protectively.

Yi raised his Dragon Rising until it towered in the air, its cruel point angled to the sky. Ahri recognized the form in an instant. That was his favorite fighting stance. She had seen it so many times on the Fields of Justice.

Her voice was a single cry, almost a plea.

"YI!"

"AHRI!"

Ahri spun her Phoenix Sun, spitting a blaze forwards as Yi cut his way through the flames to strike.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He skated across the hard rock floor as if it were the smoothest glass, skidding towards Ahri, his sword already spinning through the air in a deadly whirl. It was as if his feet sprouted invisible wings. A twirl of his body, and a switch of the hand, and the Dragon Rising blade lashed out from the unlikeliest of angles; the sharpened edge tried to lick at Ahri's face, only to be turned aside by a swift block from the Phoenix Sun. Ahri held the fiery orb in front of cross arms, catching the Dragon Rising on its curve.

"Ugnh!"

She was forced back by the force of Yi's blow. She took four steps back, desperately trying to find the balance in her step. Her legs shivered from the impact.

Yi swayed for a moment, and seemed to fall.

His foot shot forwards.

Another spin and the Dragon Rising twirled upwards in a deadly slash at Ahri's neck. Rather than block, the fox turned backwards, and started running from the hurricane of slashes that Yi had become. She nimbly stepped past swipes to her head, her legs, her tails, as Yi kept chasing her with his swings across the chamber. They were almost perfectly in sync, darting around the chamber like two dancers; with harmony in their steps.

She landed with one foot at the base of a pillar.

She twisted, and curled up the instant Yi swung at her neck. His Dragon Rising blade missed her, and instead smashed through the rock pillar effortlessly, letting loose a cloud of dust that hid the two combatants from view. The smokescreen exploded out of the gouge in the pillar that Yi's sword left, swallowing up Yi and Ahri in its heavy maw.

Then, from the outside looking into the dust, only two clashes of sparks could be seen, bursting in blue and fiery orange flashes.

The two exploded out of the cloud, Phoenix Sun against Dragon Rising. Yi was driving his blade as forcefully as he could onto Ahri's orb, but even the razor-sharp teeth of his blade could not pierce the layers of magic that made up the Phoenix Sun. Grunting, he raised his hand to push onto the back of his blade, adding even more leverage. Ahri was sweating with the sheer amount of Manipulative magic it took to hold Yi back. Once he planted his second hand, she started to weaken.

Her knees started to buckle. Her body curved back from the strain.

"AGH!"

She called on all of her strength into her Phoenix Sun. The focus meant her legs gave out, and she fell heavily onto the ground. She was forced flat on her back… but! The Phoenix Sun shone brighter and brighter, blotting out the outline of the Dragon Rising against it. A huge amount of magical energy gathered itself into the heart of the Phoenix Sun. Yi's eyes widened from behind his helm.

He twisted away.

The orb exploded upwards. A pillar of flame shot up into the ceiling, and blasted a gaping, cracked hole clean through. The Magma Chamber was visible from down here. The monstrous blast had barely missed Yi. He landed on his hands, and cartwheeled back a dozen yards. Clenching his teeth, Yi charged forwards once more, sword held low and to the side. Now free, Ahri jumped to her feet, and leapt back, to the side, and upwards, into the Magma Chamber, blocking hit for hit, dodging sweep by sweep, Yi's counter-assault.

The two fought blow for blow, into the dark cavern of the Magma Chamber, and the toxic heat.

They landed on a thin bridge of hardened rock, in the midst of sweltering heat. Where Shen once stood guard for weeks, Yi spun again, turning the Dragon Rising once more into a flickering, deadly blur.

Ahri spun, fire licking at her feet. In a blur of flames and heat, she Spirit Rushed Yi at point-blank range, twisting as she rushed to drive her heel into Yi's chest. The magically enhanced foot slammed Yi back. The Wuju master slid back a dozen feet before stopping; he clutched painfully at the strike in his chest.

He looked up to lock eyes with Ahri. Still the corrupted black smoke tainted the air around him.

But a smile… of happiness clawed its way to his face in this dark moment.

"You are so strong." He stood up straight, and raised his blade once more. But their battle was cut in by a Rakkor's sharp, clear yell.

"RAAGH!"

Pantheon had managed to climb up, and he leapt from the side, slamming his shield down on Yi. The Wuju master blocked the edge of the shield without looking up, and caught the enormous man on his blade for an instant. Turning his head, Yi faced Pantheon. The six lenses of Yi's Headhunter helm gleamed evilly from behind Pantheon's shield as the Wuju master stared down the Rakkor. Yi took two sweeping steps to throw Pantheon off of his blade in a single movement. The Rakkor soared through the air, before landing nimbly on his sandal-wrapped feet, a dozen feet away. Pantheon landed on a plateau of rock across from Yi.

The Rakkor started striding forwards for another charge.

"Pantheon!" Ahri reached out. "Don't!"

"Lance of Zeonia!"

As soon as Pantheon's relic weapon formed in his hands, he charged forwards, crouched behind his shield, and spear fixed towards Yi. The Rakkor bore down on Yi as Yi slowly turned to face the threat.

"Pantheon…" Yi said softly, raising his blade. "Thank you for taking care of Ahri for me."

Ahri sprinted forwards, but it was too late.

"NO!"

Pantheon charged at Yi, thrusting hard with his relic weapon, as Yi spun. Led by Yi's hand, the Dragon Rising flickered between the two of them for an instant, and then they raced past each other. The two stopped facing away, frozen. Yi laughed softly. He turned to face Pantheon, a pained grin on his face… as blood spurted from his shoulder. A gaping hole was torn into his metal paldroun, slowly weeping blood from the tear in the steel.

"Heh… That was a good thrust," Yi said, falling to his knees. He clutched at the wound. "…Thank you."

Blood dripped down one the floor around Pantheon's feet. The Rakkor glanced down at his shield. The grip… Suddenly, his proud Aegis of Zeonia slipped off his arm… for he no longer had a hand on it. Pantheon stared silently, first at his dropped shield, and then at his destroyed limb. To the Rakkor, to drop one's shield was of utmost disgrace. Blood trickled steadily from his gaping wound.

The Wuju Bladesmaster slowly, painfully got up without another word.

Yi turned to look to Ahri.

"Ahri…" Yi whispered, raising his blade to fight once more. "I'm hurt now. Finish me, and then run." He started stepping slowly towards her, with a slight limp. As he limped forwards, his resolve hardened. Yi started running towards her, sword ready. He lunged forwards, swinging his sword over his head.

Blood splatters littered the lava rock behind him.

"AHRI! KILL ME!"

A tear in time and space wrapped itself about Yi's blade, rending the air about it. Swinging the infinitely sharp blade about his head, he leaped.

"DRAGON SLAYER!"

Ahri stepped back, and drew her Pheonix Sun close. She had no idea if this was going to work— Gold shimmers surrounded the orb as she drew the Wu about it.

"AHHH!"

As she raised her orb to block, the Wu reacted with the tear in time and pace of the Dragon Rising Blade. As the blade touched the orb, an outpouring of light blinded them both, and then exploded outwards in a final spark. The two of them to disappeared in a flash of gold and light.

Pantheon was left inside the Magma Chambers, his shield still laid pitifully on the ground. From inside a cloth wrapped on his back, Annie wriggled out. Her small head poke out from behind Pantheon's shoulder, worried.

"Mister? Is your arm ok?"

The Rakkor gave no response. He only stared dumbly at his dropped shield.

"Mister? Panny?"

A beastial voice cut in, with tones that sounded like a knife against gravel.

"Ho…" Rengar growled, grinning. The Pridestalker picked up Pantheon's severed hand, examining it with interest. "Seems like pieces come off you easy, Rakkor." Three more champions filed behind the Pridestalker in the shadows, spreading out to cut off Pantheon's escapes. "Makes it so much easier to get my trophy…"

"I…" Pantheon called out, suddenly. "…am not done yet."

The Rakkor reached down with his only hand left, and picked up his shield. With a bit of difficulty, he fitted the first rung of grips onto his severed forearm. The shield was left hallway on now.

"You're going to fight me with only one hand?!" Rengar started laughing loudly. He threw his head back and howled to the dark cavernous ceiling with derision.

Pantheon ripped a strip of crimson cloth from his cloak with his one hand, and tied it onto the hand grip of his shield. The Rakkor leaned forwards to bite the free end of the knot, and wrap it about his stump. Wincing, he pulled until the cloth nearly cut into was once his wrist.

"No…" Pantheon raised his shield, and crouched behind it. He spun his spear in his hand, and leveled it at the Rengar's chest. "I am going to kill you with one hand."

This seemed to silence the Pridestalker for a moment. Then a fang-filled gash of a grin spread in his face.

"You have a warrior's heart, Rakkor." Rengar stepped back, slipping into the shadows, as his three allies circled about Pantheon. "I think I'll…. Take it."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"There's not a second that goes by that I don't think about you. I want to see your face. Feel your hands in mine. Feel you against me. But for the greater good, Ahri. Please. Kill me."

"I don't want to! I'll never do that! Not for the world! … what about me? What about you?! "

"If not for the world, Ahri, then for me. I don't want to help my master destroy the world. No longer."

"What! What could he possibly lose from killing you?! How will our suffering help anyone?! …What is he doing, Yi? What plan could he have that would make you so afraid of life now?"

"…"

"…"

Yi took one of Ahri's hands, and held it up. He gripped the shining golden hand as he waved his other about at the Wu. His hand passed over the beautiful mountainside village. It swept over the industrious farmers in their fields, and over the waterfall off to the side. He passed over the lie that it was.

Here the world was perfect. No smoke tumbled from his body in here.

"This. He wants this."

His hand shook, and his breath quickened.  
"Ahri, he wants to destroy the world and replace it with the Wu."

* * *

Pantheon strode evenly, keeping his distance from the shifting shadows around him. The billowing clouds of smoke that bled off of their bodies hid their identities from him for now. Sh*t. Like he needed any more disadvantages.

A dagger tumbled out from smoke, straight at Pantheon's face. He instinctively ducked, but as he did, a lance of pain shot up his left arm. He swallowed the gasp of pain that any normal man would have made, and with tremendous effort, raised the stump of his forearm high enough to deflect the dagger.

The knife scored itself a scratch for itself in the Rakkor's shield, but otherwise flew harmlessly off into the distance. Pantheon caught a glimpse at the missile as it spun away in darkness. He recognized the blade, with its peculiarly shaped edge and the bright sheen of that special poison that a certain Demon Jester lathered his shivs with.

_It was Shaco…_

Pantheon swiftly, mechanically, recalled everything he had learned about Shaco while fighting the trickster clown on the fields of justice.

_Just how many of these b*stards were there,_ Pantheon reflected with concern_. Anymore, and he may as well compose his death will now._

A sorrowful, accented voice cut in.

"Forgive me…"

A wave of sound rocketed at Pantheon from the billowing smoke, punching a neat hole in the fog, impacting with the Rakkor's face. The sonic wave bounced about within Pantheon's metal helm, ringing the Rakkor's head; Pantheon dropped to a knee from the pain, bringing up his shield to cover up his injury.

"Oaah!"

A slim, ridiculously muscular man burst through the shadows in a flying kick. The man, with a blindfold wrapped about his head, struck the Rakkor's shield with a heavy drive of his heel, not a small amount of that energy transferred directly to Pantheon's bloody stump of a forearm. The Artisan of War let a clenched scream escape as he struggled to control the pain. Blood started seeping out of the stump, even though Pantheon had that part wrapped in a tight tourniquet.

As the Rakkor kneeled, Lee Sin, the Blind Monk, was already bringing his hand down for a devastating slam.

"HUAH!"

Lee Sin's palm smashed the ground about them, vibrating the lava rock floor like it was the skin of a drum. The bones of Pantheon's legs shivered from the impact, smashing themselves against the walls of meat warping them. It was like being punched, on his legs, everywhere. The Rakkor's instantly tenderized legs nearly collapsed under his weight.

The hulking man fell to a knee, but not before he brought his shield up in a vicious swing. Yet Lee Sin stepped back, and as slippery as the smoke sifting from his body, melted back into the blackness.

"D…damn"

Pantheon stuck his spear to the hardened lava, struggling to his feet. He knees shook, his arm hurt, his head rung, and he was hot. It was hot. He looked up from the smoke surrounding him, up at the sky.

"Pantheon… No, I mean, Markus…"

The Rakkor did not look down at the voice. The entirety of the world knew him as his tribal name, Pantheon, or "All Gods" as it meant in the guttural speech of the Rakkor, as his strength was perceived by the old crones who gave his name, of his village on Targon. Only one person alive would dare call him by the name he held as a child, that weak name of Markus. There was also only one person he would ever want to hear it from.

The Rakkor looked up to face his Sun, Leona, stride out from the darkness like dawn at the stroke of midnight.

"Markus, please…" Leona, stated, clearly, despite the smoke pouring out of her body, as she raised her golden sword. "Give me the honor of your blade. End my slavery. Kill me." She raised her zenith blade to the sun, drawing on its power.

Pantheon, for an instant, was once more a defeated child on his ass, at the mercy of the stick-wielding Leona. He recovered almost instantly, but the memory of the strong, willful girl that now stood in front of him, ready for combat, almost shook him.

Almost. He was still a Rakkor. And she was now an enemy.

"Child…" Pantheon muttered to the bundle of Annie that was strapped to his back as he stood, "Listen to me carefully... I will need your help."

* * *

"The Wu in our world?"

Yi solemnly nodded.

"So he's going to replace reality with the Wu… but… what'll happen to us? What will happen to the world?!"

"Those that can enter the Wu may enter the new world with the shift. Those that can't… they will likely cease to exist, or exist without meaning, only as illusions or ideas, much like these souls do now."

Yi gazed sadly at a child who was eagerly chasing a golden butterfly through the fields. He circled about Yi and Ahri once before dashing off, giggling madly. His laughter and smile was real, but like the fantasy he was, his eyes were glazed and his laughter without soul. It was like watching a life-sized puppet dance across a real-life stage.

"So they'll basically die."

"Yes. And this world will come to life." Yi looked up, away from the child-illusion. "That is what he is planning to use the Nexi for. He will harness their limitless power to force open a hole into the Wu. Then, like a disease the Golden Dream of the Wu will spread throughout the world until what is true and what is false will mix and blend until there is no such thing."

* * *

"Oooo-wwooh!" Shaco screamed as he took a spear through the gut.

Pantheon skewered the Demon Jester straight through the stomach, drawing a scream out of scrawny man. The jester convulsed for a moment, before exploding in a shower of knifes of every length.

It was a hallucination…

The Rakkor anticipated this. He crouched behind his shield and let his Aegis deflect every last of one the projectiles. The daggers splashed against the metal of the shield like rain. But he was unharmed.

"Huah!"

Another ball of pure sound smashed itself against Pantheon's Aegis of Zeonia. The impact sent tremors along the surface of the metal barrier until the air hummed a low tone. For a man who relied solely on his sense of hearing to fight, it was like painting a target all over your chest.

Lee Sin flew at Pantheon with yet another flying kick, aimed right at the source of the noise; the shield.

But the Rakkor did not block. He shifted his shield to the side to accept Lee Sin's kick on his chest. His bronze chestplate did little to soften the Blind Monk's blow. Lee Sin's heel rammed into the soft bronze with such force that it left an imprint of his foot on the Rakkor's armor. The monk could hear the snapping of ribs as his heel drove deep. The Blind Monk frowned in confusion at Pantheon's self-destructive action.

_Why…_ Lee Sin pondered, confused... _didn't he block the kick?_

The answer came swiftly. Pantheon's shield swept down, and collided bodily with the Blind Monk's temple. The force that would liquefy most men's skulls merely stunned the iron-like body of Lee Sin. The monk stumbled back, drunkenly. He was alive. But with his auditory nerve going haywire, the Blind Monk was for a moment, truly blind.

Bearing cracked ribs, a severed arm, and tenderized legs, Pantheon barely mustered the strength to shoulder his spear. He leveled his aim at the Blind Monk.

"…Sorry."

He flung the javelin with deadly force at Lee Sin's throat. The weapon shot through the air like an arrow.

_Reach,_ Pantheon pleaded desperately.

The spear was halfway to the Blind Monk's throat.

_Reach!_

It was almost home.

Reac—!

Leona's voice sharply cut in, along with the sharp whiz, thud, or a blade cutting through wood effortlessly. Pantheon caught a glimpse of a golden crescent drawing itself over his spear.

"Hah!"

The spear fell to the ground, severed, in two separate pieces. The halves clattered harmlessly against the lava floor, as the Blind Monk recovered his senses.

"Leona… Thank you…" Lee Sin bowed his head, still rubbing the welt where Pantheon cracked his dome.

Leona lifted her Zenith Blade. She stared coldly at Pantheon. Then, with slow deliberation, she brought her shield over her head, and slammed it down on the ground before her. A holy light wrapped about her, protecting her. The light of the sun shone from the Verdina Sun, the spiked star that was affixed at the top of Leona's relic shield.

"Markus! I'm coming!" She thrust her sword forwards. "Zenith Blade!"

A solar projection of her sword shot out at her friend.

Pantheon reached up, and without a trace of fear, plucked the Zenith Blade out of mid-air with his only hand.

"Ha! That's new, Markus!" Leona almost grinned as her solar image dragged her forwards to her childhood friend. She swept her shield forwards; still shining bright from the star carved on top. "Can you handle this though? Aegis of Daybreak!"

She held her shield in front of her the instant before she would collide with Pantheon. He replied the assault with his own attack, leaping forwards and sweeping his Aegis of Zeonia to meet her Aegis of Daybreak.

"Markus!" The holy light exploded around Leona, smashing into Pantheon, as he put all of his force behind his shield.

Through the blinding light, Pantheon looked up, staring straight into her bright, brilliant eyes. Even the corrupting smoke could not hide her beauty. The Artisan of War, overcome, let loose a bellow:

"LEONA!"

The two were blown back, Leona from the force of Pantheon's swing, Pantheon from the explosion of light. Leona rolled across the hardened lava, and bounced up to a knee, while Pantheon, unable to muster up even a modicum of strength to control his flight, slid on the lava like a corpse.

Just… like old times… Pantheon brooded.

"M…Markus…" Leona almost fell forwards in her armor. She brought her head up. A wisp of a smile made its way to her lips. "It's better this way. That you died by my shield. "

Pantheon, weakened to the point of helplessness, looked up, as the Shaco burst out of thin air, bringing down his wicked dagger. He could barely hear Leona's words over the cackling of the Demon Jester.

"Don't worry… I'll follow you soon, Markus. We all will."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Leona stood transfixed at the sight in front of her. A stalwart Rakkor strode, covered in the ashes that was once a enemy. What happened in front of her happened so quickly that even her beyond human battle sight, honed by years of training and centuries of carefully bred genes, struggled to keep up. Pantheon... was simply too fast. He was too strong. Too precise, too brutal, too powerful, too sharp, too everything.

A whisper escaped her lips as she strode forwards, compelled by the corrupting smoke, to face her oldest friend. It was hardly a romantic scene by any measure. The ugly, hardened rock that was once searing lava made up the walls about them and the ground the strode over. Below them, lava flowed slowly, like gelatin, dumping heat and flames into the air above them in excess. But to her, it was as fitting as anywhere. Leona only had eyes for her friend.

"Beautiful..."

Her legs shook with excitement and apprehension, yet her armored feet marched firmly. Wouls she die by his blade too? Would he cut down the the one who he shared so many mock duels with? But this time, with sacred Rakkor relic weapons in the place of sticks and stones? The chosen of the Solari couldn't think of a more perfect end.  
She felt like she was falling in love all over again.

* * *

_Three minutes before..._

_"It's better this way. That you died by my shield. "_  
_Pantheon, weakened to the point of helplessness, looked up, as the Shaco burst out of thin air, bringing down his wicked dagger. He could barely hear Leona's words over the cackling of the Demon Jester._  
_"Don't worry… I'll follow you soon, Markus. We all will."_

"Hah."  
Pantheon stood up straight, not even looking at the man swooping in to stab him in the back. "Haha. Kill? Me? Leona, you still dreaming, little sunshine?" He stared straight into his friends eyes as Shaco's shiv fell closer and closer to his neck. "You've forgotten who I am."

Shaco rammed his shiv in deep just as Pantheon swayed ot the side. The knife sank in several inches, cutting through the Rakkor's hardened body. The Demon Jester gave a few grunts of effort as he tried to worm the shiv deeper.  
"Hoho!" Shaco clacked I know what you are!" He twisted the shiv about in the Rakkor's body, widening the wound. "DEAD!"  
The Artisan of war turned at the proclamation.  
"Am I?"

His armored skull swiveled to face the Demon Jester. Cold, piercing eyes, barely visible within the shadows of his huge, intimidating helm, drilled into the clown. Normally, Shaco gave as about as many f*cks concerning other champions, and their innate desire to kill him, as the League had manatees. He logically had even less reason to fear a dead man.

But this time was different. A little. It was the eyes. Those eyes were not the eyes of a hateful, or even angry man. The eyes that were staring him down were the eyes of a souless machine, one whose only function was death. Those were the eyes that were calculating, not seeing, and the soul behind those eyes was completely and utterly conquered by the mind. A mind which had just then decided to do nothing more than to kill him.  
Shaco knew those eyes. The jester saw those eyes every time he happened to pass a mirror.  
The clown's grimace of a smile shrank by a few centimeters. He, a merchant of fear and death by trade, was not used to being on the receiving end of the fear of daeth. He didn't like it. Without so much as a sly taunt, a knife appeared in the jester's other hand, and shot at the Rakkor's face.

"DIE!"  
Pantheon only had to tilt his head to the side, and the shiv glanced off of the temple of the rounded Rakkor helm. No blood, only sparks, were shed. He clenched the muscles on his back, and at once, his body closed around the shiv in it. The knife was stuck fast, and with his spear arm, he rammed his spear through the demon jester's foot, and into the rock beneath them.

"Child!" Pantheon shouted to the child mage strapped to his back. "Now!"  
Annie rustled out of the bundle on Pantheon's back, and raised her hands. The little girl stared down the demon jester bearing down on her, and with every bit of courage a child could muster, cast a cone of flames. Fire bloomed from her palms, as she drew on her latent magical power.  
Shaco was wreathed in searing flames. The screaming came loud and furiously.

"Ahh! AAAAAAAGH! HAAAGGGHH!"  
Lee Sin, willed by the black smoke, sprung into action, and shot towards his immolated ally. He drew on the msytical powers at his command, and shielded the demon jester from further damage, but that only prolonged Shaco's agony.

The Blind Monk wasted no time on sympathies. A flurry of blows erupted from hands, using the monk's iron-like flesh as deadly instruments, striking stunning blows that would have shattered most men's bones, and pureed an ordinary warrior's flesh. But each of those strikes found only the metal of Pantheon's shield to greet, and no warrior's flesh, no matter how great, can be hardened enough to damage the magic-strengthened metal from the ages of the Rune Wars.  
Lee Sin's strikes found only impregnable rune-steel to meet. His strikes struck up a symphony of war on Pantheon's shield, letting loose loud, clear tones as the Aegis of Zeonia shook off the energy delivered from the Blind Monk.

"Huoh!"  
The Blind Monk struck the ground, sending waves of vibrations through the rock to cripple Pantheon's legs, but the Rakkor skipped off of the ground, dodging the damaging wave by milliseconds.

Lee Sin shouted, and drew the voice of his shout into the space in front of his body. The air in front of him slowly started to form into a barely visible ball-like shimmer. With the power of chi he formed the sound into a missile, and launched it with a flourish. The shimmer soared towards the Rakkor with deadly percision.

Pantheon made no attempt to dodge. He barely glanced at the incoming missile. He merely bent down, until he was nearly crouching. Then, with a tremendous shout, he slammed his shield into the ground, cracking the hardened lava easiely, shooting deadly sharp shards of rock all over the place, but more importantly, letting loose a blast of sound that was nearly deafening.

Lee Sin groaned as the world round him, made up of sounds and vibrations instead of light and colors, was swept away in a wave of sound borne from the force of Pantheon's blow. To him, it was as if the world was suddenly swept up in a blinding snowstorm. His sonic wave was all but lost in the wave of noise. This is why he did not notice Pantheon until the Rakkor was almost upon him.  
A thrust by Pantheon missed, but the monk had to spend more time and energy to avoid it that he normally would have to. It was clear now. The Ionian warrior was now on the defensive.

Lee Sin tried every move, every counter, every clutch, grab, and throw he knew on the Artisan of War, but the man was simply too skilled and too well protected by his massive shield for the blind monk to find any sort of opening at all. And with every thrust, Pantheon was getting closer and closer to the monk's heart.

Pantheon drew back, tucking his spear behind his shield for a second. Lee Sin took the opening to deliver a full-force kick to the Rakkor's head. On any other warrior, even guarded with a heavy helm like Pantheon's, that strike would cleanly remove the hapless victim's head. But the Artisan of War took the strike in stride. If the Rakkor warrior suffered a concussion from the clean blow, he didn't show it.

Instead, Pantheon stared down the blind monk from behind the leg in his face.

As soon as Lee Sin saw those eyes, he knew he had made.a fatal error.

The cruel spearhead of Pantheon's lance emerged from behind his shield, and then disappeared in a blur.  
The spear lashed out and seemed to but touch Lee Sin at a single point, and disappear once more, only to find itself buried in one more part of the monk's body. This happened dozens, perhaps even hundreds of times. The monk could not keep up with the storm of thrusts. Leona couldn't. Perhaps even Pantheon did not track where he struck.

But while the attack was nearly invisible the results were not. The Lance of Zoenia found purchase even in Lee Sin's hardened body. And where it found bite, it found blood. Blood spurted out in small bursts where Lee Sin was pierced. The Blind Monk's abnormally strong heart, required to fuel his amazing feats of strength, worked against him as blood sprayed from his wounds with deadly volume.  
Lee Sin fell to a knee.

"You fight well, Ionian." Pantheon stared down at his prey with the trademark Rakkor cold professionalism. "Were you not blind and unarmed... this fight might've turned against me."  
The Blind Monk chuckled as he struggled to a knee.  
"Hehe... you... honor me!" The Blind Monk slammed a foot into the ground, and twisted his leg forwards in his ultimate strike. His greatest kick, the Dragons' Rage. "EEEEEEE-KUNNN!"

In flash, Pantheon swept the butt of his lance at the monk's feet, robbing him of his foothold. Yet still the monk swept his leg forwards. With the other half of his body, Panteon crouched down and braced himself against the monk's kick. With no foothold, and striking against a braced object, the Blind Monk kicked himself... over a ledge, and into a pit of lava.

Lee Sin flailed in the air for a bit, trailing blood from the dozens of piercing on his body, feeling the heat of lava at his back.

_He was baptised in in flames... now he was going to die in them? How fitting._  
He closed his mind's eye and let the hot air rush past him.  
Then a something flew through the air, slammed into him, and nailed him to an opposing rock wall.

"Gaah-hah!" The pain was deep and immediate.  
"Hmph!" Pantheon shouted out, to the monk hung like a painting across the Magma Chamber. "Quit crying! You're tough enough!"

Lee Sin felt the shaft in him and realized that Pantheon had thrown a spear straight through him, impaling him on a rock wall, and saving him from the lava pits below. The monk gave a pained sigh of exasperation. Only a Rakkor would think to save anyone in this fashion. It hurt like hell... but he'd get live through it.

Pantheon turned from the nailed monk, to the still moving lump of black that was Shaco. Pantheon loomed over the nearly dead clown. Without the slightest trace of hesitation or pity, the Rakkor raised his shield, and slammed it's edge onto the Demon Jester's neck. The bones cracked like clay and the smoking remains finally lay still. Finally, Pantheon turned to his last opponent. He noticed her staring at him, enamored.

"Hm? What's got you so happy, Leona?"  
Leona smiled, and raised her blade. Truly, the gods have smiled upon her today if this man was to be her end. She leveled the golden edge of the Zenith Blade at her friend. Not even the black smoke would change how she felt now. She didn't need the corruption to enjoy what was to come.

"Nothing, Markus. Lets... just have our last fight."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Ahri muttered to herself as Yi gripped her, as they shifted away from the Wu, and back into the real world.  
She uttered the same phrase, over and over, like it was some incantation to make everything right.

"Get out, find Jax outside of the Institute, and find some way to stop Heian. Nothing else matters."  
The golden world of the Wu was melting away around her to give way to the oppressive heat, to the hardened rock, and to the fires and lava of the Magma Chamber. Bit by bit, her feet found purchase on the black rock. Bit by bit, Yi started to slip away, as the black smoke started pouring out his body once more, and his directives to capture Ahri were conquering his mind

As Yi fell further and further away, Ahri muttered once more, "Get out, find Jax outside of the Institute, and find some way to stop Heian." She looked up. Before her, Leona and Pantheon were locked in mortal combat. Their weapons glinted in the light of the fires below as they clashed again and again.

"Nothing else matters."  
"Pantheon!" Yi called out to the Rakkor warrior. "Please! I need your help! Take Ahri and run!"  
The Rakkor didn't answer at first. Pantheon first parried a slash from Leona's Zenith Blade, hopped a few steps back, and then turned to Yi. If the Rakkor held any resentment to the Wuju Bladesman for cutting his shield hand off, Pantheon didn't show it.

"I'm busy."  
"Please! If you don't run, there will be no one left to stop Heian from destroying the world!"  
"...Get out, find Jax outside of the Institute, and find some way to stop Heian."  
"Everyone dies some day. I'm a soldier, not a scholar, but even I know that." the Artisan of War stole a glance back at Leona. "So why don't I die doing something I want for once?"  
"Because you're the only one who can help!" The smoke was close to dominating Yi's mind. "Please. For Ahri. For Leona."  
Pantheon stood silently for a few moments. He glanced from Ahri, who was still muttering, and he seemed to be thinking over the request.  
Then, he sighed, and threw down his lance head down into the rock. His spear quivered as his hand left it's wooden shaft, and balled into a fist. He strode over and reached out to Ahri, who was still repeating the plan under her breath. "Come on, little fox. We've got more trials ahead of us."

Ahri reached out to Pantheon's huge, spade-like hands, and gripped it. In a single motion he lifted her on his shoulders, where Annie, still swathed in the cloth on Pantheon's back, happily greeted Ahri.

Yi stood forlornly off to the side. Seeing Ahri go clearly pained him. He was losing a struggle against the black smoke that would compell him to capture her at all cost. He almost wanted to let the smoke win, if it meant she wouldn't have to go. But he was resolute.

"Thank you for taking care of her."  
"Hm! Just be alive to take her back." The Rakkor crouched. "She needs you." Pantheon stared deep into Yi's masked face. "But even I can tell you need her more."  
_Damn,_ Yi thought tilting his helm down in slght annoyance, _saw right through me._  
The Rakkor stared up to the blackness above them. Somewhere above them was where the dark army dropped in their troops. His muscles clenched, and the rocks and dust about them began to quiver with the stored strength in them. A rumbling could be heard rising from the ground; as their elaticity was pushed to their limits.  
Pantheon glanced back down, at Yi and Leona, who even now were struggling to stop themselves from attacking him.

"We will return."  
"We'll wait."  
From Pantheon's shoulder, Ahri looked up. Her eyes were still confused, but clearer now. She opened her mouth slowly, to speak the first words that weren't the plan.  
"Get out, find Jax, stop Heian." She looked only at Yi. "I'll do it, Yi."  
"I know you will," he whispered. "Good luck."  
And with a warrior's shout, Pantheon leapt from the rocky platform of the Magma Chamber, rocketing from the hardened lava and into the inky blackness above.

* * *

"Are you going to be alright?" Yi asked, facing the Radiant Dawn. She was kneeling on the ground. Her usually shining red locks were matted like a cloth to her skull; sweat caked the strong features of her face, and most of her ornamental pieces of her armor was bent, cracked, or snapped clean off. Blood slowly dripped out from inside her armor, but Yi could not see where she had been struck.  
Leona gave a brave smile.

"Heh. The sun's glory can't be put ut by a few scratches like this!"  
"Don't take it the wrong way, but I wasn't talking about your body. How are you holding up mentally, being forced to fight your childhood friend?"  
"Never better." She closed her eyes in a sort of satisfied way. "I feel refreshed."  
"You really trust Pantheon, don't you?"  
She fixed Yi with her clearest stare. "Absolutely."  
"You Rakkor really are amazing." Yi glanced to the side. Lee Sin was already removing himself from this impalement on the rock. Shaco was completely dead. And there was one more...

Master Yi turned to the last champion in the room. "Why didn't you join in?" Master Yi fixed the beast hiding in the shadowed with a helmeted glare. "Rengar?"  
The Pridestalker's eyes gleamed from the shadows in the back of the chamber. He had been watching the fight the entire time. His voice came out guttural and animalistic, as usual.

"I... want to savor this hunt. It's no fun to snatch the up now. And what's more..." His rough tongue slivered out of his maw to lick his lion-like lips and his eyes gained a dangerous glint to them. "Prey always run off to find more prey."  
"You mean to follow Ahri to Jax and the others outside?" Yi contemplated this. Then the Wuju master bowed, almost sarcastically. "I'm sorry. I thought you were too simple to come up with a scheme like that." He looked up, his face stoic. "You are more clever than I gave you credit for."

The Pridestalker did not rise to the provocation.  
"When it comes to hunting, never underestimate me." He slunk back into the shadows. "Especially since next time... I'll bring with me real hunters"

* * *

"..."

A band of about twenty or so dark soldiers stood silent vigil over the magic-blasted rocks of the Proving Grounds. They all held in their grips crossbows, their bodies were wrapped from head to toe in armor of Onyx, and they were positioned at every angle along the Proving Grounds. Their watchful gaze covered every possible approach.

Except, of course, from above.  
One of the soldiers noticed a shadow that seemed to have no owner, rapidly shrinking in a spot directly over him. Then a certain sound caught his attention; the shout of a manly voice from above.

"SPARTA!"  
Pantheon and his passengers landed with the force fo a meteor onto the cool, glowing rocks of the Proving Grounds. An explosion of dust erupted from the center of the Proving Grounds, shrouding the three champions who made it. As the smoke cleared, a spiderweb pattern of cracks could be seen blossomed in the slight crater that Pantheon had made with his Grand Skyfall. Dark soliders lay scattered about them, blown away by the force of Pantheon's landing.

Not to be fazed, the survivors started to envelope the three champions that had landed in their midst.

Pantheon raised his spear, ready to fight. But Ahri hopped off of his shoulder, to place a hand on his weapon. She looked up at him, and gave him a strained smile.  
"I'll take these ones. I need to blow off some stress."  
The Artisan of War said nothing. He only stared at Ahri, dumbfounded. His silence confused Ahri, and she cocked her head. Her smile got wider, but none of the warthm reached her eyes. She was still pissed.

"What, Panth? What are you looking at."  
Still the Rakkor remained speechless. He lowered his spear, despite the slowly advancing soldiers around them, to raise a hand to his head. As if he were checking to see if something was gone. "You..." He finally managed to stumble out, "your head..."

Fed up, Ahri turned away from her companion, and to the cluster of dark soldiers. A thicket of crossbow bolts were leveled at her, slowly swallowing her up as the soliders shifted to surrounder her. More dark soldiers were streaming in from the opposite end of the Proving grounds. This should be a bad situation.  
She held her palm out, and let the Pheonix Sun spin itself into a frenzy.  
"Come on then! Come at me!"

She heard the _Thwack!_ of the crossbows behind her as they fired, so she spun around to sweep the Pheonix Sun at them-  
But to her surprise, she was greeted to the sight of the dark soldiers stumbling back, their crossbows discharged uselessly into the sky. One of them fell forwards, and Ahri could see that his helm was shattered. Black blood splattered the rock tiles of the Proving Grounds, as one by one, dark solider after soldier fell to some invisible force, like a hammer, that shattered their helms like glass.

She turned around, and she could see that even the stream of reinforcements from the other end was being whittled down by the same force. The sound of gunshots overwhlemed her. Dozens of them, fired in rapid sucession, filled the empty space of the Proving Grounds like a wave.

KAMKAMKAMKAMKAM!

From the far side of the Proving Grounds, a solo warrior leapt onto the bride, wielding a thin blade with deadly accuracy. The solo warrior lunged into the thicket of reinforcements, cutting accross the weak points of the dark soldier's armor with ease.  
One dark soldier rushed at her from behind, a huge two-handed axe in his grip. The soldier struck downwards with crushing force, driving the blade into the solo warrior's back. Or so he thought. The duelist looked upwards, a smug grin on her refined face. She had caught the two-handed axe with the main gauche, the parrying blade that she kept on her back.

"Too slow!" She yelled out, as her rapier lashed out, and slashed the axe warrior from head to toe. Blood and obsidian tumbled out of the axeman's body. He looked as if he had been hit by an explosion, not a sword.

"A'ha." Fiora levelled her rapier in front of her, holding it point forwards, and with her free hand sprawled over the blade's edge, as if it were a spear. She fearlessly held her tiny sword out against the dozens of dark soldiers in front of her. "Prepared?"  
The swarms of soldiers in front of her stepped back a few centimeters.  
"T'en die."  
She lunged.

"Argh!"  
"A'hah!"  
"Engarde!"  
"Surround her! Don't let-arrgh!"  
"Aaaaagh!"

Fiora disappeared in a storm of slashes. She seemed to be buried underneath the weight of the troops around her. Then the blood and limbs started flying. And a few minutes later, there was nothing left standing.

"Hm-hm." Fiora hummed to herself in a sort of self-satisfied way as she wiped the blood off of her rapier. All about her, the broken pieces of dozens of dark soliders lay strewn about. Black blood oozed through the cracks of the rock tiles like inky, sticky rivers.  
Ahri frowned.

"Didn't need to butt in." She called out, walking over to Fiora.  
"Hm." Fiora didn't even look up. She just kept on cleaning her blade with a hankerchief, still wearing that unbearably arrogant smirk on her face. "_Excusez mo_i. I 'ad no idea you were t'ere." She looked up, and sighed, eyes closed in mock-exasperation. "T'ey all vanis'ed so quickly I not notice _Mademoisselle _standing off to t'e side" She opened her eyes, another barbed retort at the tip of her tongue. "You know, you s'ould-"

But as soon as she saw Ahri in full, her mouth hung open and not a word escaped the Grand Duelist.

"Wh.. you..."

"What?"

"_Sacrebleu,_" Fiora muttered finally, striding quickly over to Ahri. "You... your... t'ey're gone..."  
"What!" Ahri called out, annoyed. She turned, and noticed Pantheon still staring dumbly at her. "What is it?!" Annie rustled her way out of the cloth on Pantheon's back. Even the child mage was transfixed by the sight of Ahri for some reason.

"Pretty... Sis! You look pretty!"  
"What?" Ahri sucked in a breath. She turned to Fiora, who seemed to have recovered.  
"_Mon Dieu_." Fiora cursed, "You do not know?"  
Fiora drew her blade, and threw it at Ahri's feet. The rapier clattered along the runic stone, glinting even in the dim light. The sword was like a mirror. She drew closer.

She gasped.

In the reflection, to her shock, she saw Master Yi's second latest wife, looking right back at her. It was Rixa, who died in Singed's chemical attack on her village. From beyond the improptu looking glass, Rixa's soft black hair, and her deep dark eyes stared back at her, confusion and shock clouding her beautiful face. How could this be? Rixa for years was dead now. Ahri drew closer…

No.

It wasn't Rixa, she realized. She scarcely recognized the person in the mirror- but there was no doubt of it. Her triangular ears had vanished, leaving rounded, human ears at the sides of her head. Her yellow, fox-like pupils had deepened in hue and shrunk, leaving beautiful twin pools of black in her face. She glanced down, and saw that her tails were gone too- the only trace of them left were nine strips of cloths that lay about her, as a part of her dress. She shivered as the wind bit at her exposed legs.

It wasn't Rixa. It was her.

* * *

**So. Now you guys know what the cover image is of. **


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

They were all staring at her. Despite treading the treacherous rocky ground of the foothills surrounding the Institute, the men of Piltover still somehow found the space in between dodging cracks and footfalls and leaping across dangerous ground to ceaselessly stare at Ahri. Over a dozen pairs of wide eyes and gaping mouths shadowed her, Pantheon, Annie, and Fiora as they trekked away from the Institute and back to their camp.

She should have been used to this. However, unlike the lustful stares she received back when she was still a fox in Ionia, these stares were free of malice or carnal hunger. They were just entraced by her beauty.

"S-Stop looking!" Ahri stammered, for once in her life, embarassed. She blushed slightly as the company of snipers escorting her, like any normal red-blooded man would, kept on staring. Under the weight of their combined whitering gaze, Ahri ducked her head down and shielded her face with her hands. She along with a full rank of Piltover's finest, were traversing the rocky badlands that dominated the terrain around the institute. These were police officers hand picked by Caitlyn herself for their expertise with a rifle. It was them who reduced the line of dark soldiers along the Proving Grounds into bits and pieces.

"So," Ahri said, turning to the sniper that was staring at her the least, "You guys were stuck outside, huh?"  
"Trapped outside with Commander Jax from the start." The sniper she questioned faced her with a warm smile. He was a stocky man, with a bushy mustache that wrapped around to his sideburns, a large ruddy nose, and kind eyes. His wrinkles reminded Ahri of Zilean. "Always busy though, Commander Jax led us out a plenty of night raids on the enemy camps. Musta killed a hundred of those crow *******s myself, if you don't mind me saying. "

Ahri softly laughed at the boast, as the sniper's hearty chuckles coaxed a smile from her face.

"You're not as... freaked out by me, are you?"  
"Ah, not really sweetheart." The man held up his hand, revealing a plain silver ring wrapped about a finger. "Tied the knot a good while ago. But if I was thirty years younger... oh, the damage I would have done to you."  
The sniper held out a hand to the dark sky and his voice took on a lofty air. "Just two weeks alone with the me three score back and I'd have you weeping at night over me; dazzled by my sun-like youth and my Herculean body."  
His voice and his pose paired with his stupidly thick figure was too much for her. She burst out laughing.

"TA-HA-HA-HA!"  
Ahri really did cry, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.  
"So, you have another name," Ahri teased, fighting back giggles, "Hercules of Piltover?"  
"Ye." The sniper titled his cap forwards, letting Ahri see the gold embrodery; and he swept his shoulder forwards, to show off the multiple chevrons stitched into his uniform. "Murdoch. Captain Murdoch Murliel."  
"Ohhh..." Ahri snapped off a smart salute. "Sir! My mistake, Mr. Herucles Piltover Captain, Sir!"  
"No need to be so formal, Ma'am. At ease, at ease." Captain Murliel stopped at a opening in the walls of rocks that surrounded them. He reached out to grip a gate made haphazardly out of scraps of wood and bits of rope. The captain opened the gate for Ahri.

"You going to want to save your pleasentries, Ma'am, for the Commander."

Ahri was assaulted as soon as the gate was clear. A hulking man wrapped in purple cloths swept out of the gate to grip Ahri in a bear hug. She was caught by surprise for a moment by the sensation, but the familiar touch and scent let her drop her guard.

"Jax..." She hugged him back.  
"Thank god you're alright." The Grandmaster's deep voice floated out of his iron, seven-holed facemask. He looked worse for the wear. His mask was heavily scratched and scored, his cloths were tattered and frayed, and his limbs, while strong and solid, hid within them a weakness of the muscle.

_He has been fighting too,_ Ahri realized.

"Commander? Let's set up camp, our boys are tired from a good day of work."  
"Good idea, Murdoch. Our fishers caught a lot of Silverfin today, so it's double servings of fish stew tonight."  
"Aye, those crows didn't manage to kill us." Captain Murliel smirked as he waved in his men; the snipers filed through the gate one by one, rubbing their sore spots. "So why not give our awful food another shot at it?"

Another figure strolled up to the entrance of the camp. A voluptious, elegant woman in a short purple dress leaned against the rock wall that served to close off their encampment, cradling an enourmous sniper rifle. Captain Murliel snapped off a salute as he passed her, to which the woman nodded in recognition, relieving the Captain to retire. After her subordinate passed, Caitlyn, Sheriff of Piltover, titled her hat up in greeting.

"More champions. Excellent, we'll need all the hands we can get." The sheriff held out an outstretched hand to Ahri. "Don't believe we've ever been properly introduced. Caitlyn, Sheriff of Piltover. Glad to see you lot made it out of the League in one piece."  
"Good to see you too," Ahri bowed politely. "I know you, but-"

"'Cuse me," Fiora interrupted, stepping through Pantheon and Ahri, "If you all are going to be 'ere a while, Ah'd like to go back to my tent and rest for today." She brushed past her fellow champions, her hands on her hips and her eyes closed in equal parts annoyance and fatigue. Fiora did not even glance at Caitlyn as she passed her.  
Caitlyn pulled her hat over her eyes at Fiora brusqueness.  
"Nice to see you again too, Fiora."  
"Hmph."

Once the Grand Duelist was out of sight, Caitlyn sighed. She slung her rifle over her back and draped her hands over it.

"Always such trouble. Reminds me of a certain partner I've got back home." The sheriff jerked her head over towards a ring of tents surrounding a small campfire. "Come on then, let's warm up by the fire. We've even got a small bath running on the east part of camp."  
Caitlyn stared straight at Ahri then.  
"Won't let YOU take a bath though, not until the campfire's out."  
"Eh?"  
"If I let you get any prettier I've have to chain every man here to a post at night." Caitlyn suddenly reached out and lightly stroked Ahri's chin in a way that made her blush. Ahri pulled back, embarassed again. "What have you done to yourself, Dear?"

_What?_ Ahri brooded, uncertain, _when did she let herself get so innocent? _

"I-I don't know. I just came out of the Magma Chamber looking like this." Ahri's hand floated on reflex to brush her smooth, domed skull, where her fox ears used to be, and back down to her small, rounded human ears at the sides of her face. "It's nothing really, we've got other things to worry about."  
"Hm. Maybe you're right. We'll figure it out after we've got our precious League back." Caitlyn walked off to the campfire, stretchhing her arms. "You should get some food and then get some rest. We move out in the morning."  
"Hm? To where?"

Caitlyn's eyes sharpened.

"The League. We take it back tommorow."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Master Heian stood from a high balcony that overlooked the Grand Hall, sword at his side, his dark wrappings obscuring his face. His body was deteriorating. The spell holding him to this world was weakening. His gripped his side as a dull, dead pain shot through his side. When he pulled his hand away from the spot, dark, brown blood matted a layer of decaying life on his palm.

He frowned. The wound Yi had given him accelerated the decaying process. Soon he would turn back into the corpse he was made from, and he would be powerless to do any more.

He shifted his gaze from his hand to the view over the balcony. In front of him, dozens of Nexi were being collected; the magic stolen and stored from the aftermaths of the Rune Wars. The might of the every nation-once might was trapped in bottomless depths of the Nexus crystal they were stored in, and restricted their flow to only a trickle, so that the devastation that was nearly destroyed the world would never again.

His eyes travelled over the might of nations. There was a dark violet crystal that once held the collective might of Icathia, a brilliant white crystal that shone like a diamond; the remnants of Uristan, a royal blue that held the might of all Shurmia's court mages, and so on.

But there was the most important one. The Ionian crystal.

Master Heian gazed into the depths of a brilliant golden nexus that was being stacked upon a skeltal-pyramid made only of red cedar and painted with the Imperial Red of the Chin Dynasty, blessed with holly and mulberry blossoms.

The Ionian crystal was different from the Nexi of other countries. For while the other countries stored power like a battery, the Ionian crystal was something else entirely.

It was a dam. A plug. A barrier, holding back the Wu from flooding the world.

Destroying this Nexus would be slightly more difficult than moving a mountain. But with the might of every country's Nexi, and the strength of the entire League of Legends...  
Master Heian closed his eyes. It would come soon. He only needed a little more time, and the dark soldiers would complete the release ritual. Then the Seal on the Wu would fall apart. And then...

And end to suffering. Only then would he allow himself to die.

* * *

The plan was simple.  
Cause a diversion and slip in through the back. If they collected as one and launched a frontal assault on the League, they would be crushed by the overwhelming force that the combined rest of the League and the army would bring onto them. The amount of sheer firepower that ninety-plus champions of every nation could bring down on a handful of champions and a company of snipers would make the wrath of God feel like a light spring rain.

Jax took with him the entire company of snipers to mount an attack on the front gate of the League. As one of the strongest champions, and one of the few front-line fighters they had left, he was best suited for the nearly-suicidal task. Pantheon, his willful Rakkor not to be outdone, immediately volunteered for the task as well. Thus the majority of their ragged band left for the most dangerous part of their mission. In their hearts they knew that few would survive. The necessity of the task hardened their hearts. First came their jobs. Survival they could figure out afterwards.

And so they were about to leave, too. A smaller company would make their way to the Proving Grounds and slip through into the Institute through there. There was only Annie left. Upon learning that Ahri was going back into "the bad place", the child cried buckets before Ahri left; it had been up to Ahri to console her, smoothing the her hair, and soothing away the little girl's sobs with her words.

"Your big sister will be right back, Annie. I promise, okay?"  
"L...liar. Sis...mama..." Annie choked over more sobs, and her wailing was starting to pick up again. Annie buried her face in Ahri's belly, her tears wetting the silk.  
Ahri softly smiled. She had a dumb idea.  
"How about I give you one of my nice, fluffy tails?"  
Annie giggled a bit between her tears.  
"You don't have any."  
"That's right. Because I gave it to you."  
Annie stopped crying. Her small voice came out less and less shaky.  
"That's stupid."  
"You're stupid."  
Fiora strode forwards from the front of the camp, her rapier dangling from her hip, her eyes lidded with annoyance.  
"If you are finished, mademoiselles." Fiora jerked her head over at a small group of less than ten people. "T'e caravan awaits."  
"I will be back," Ahri whispered to Annie over her dried tears. "I promise."

She rose, causing her silk strips flowing like water over Annie. With a motion, Ahri turned to step away from the camp, to join the second party. They left wordlessly, trudging down the mountain path that would lead to the Proving Grounds, and eventually the Institute.

And she left; the image of a small girl with her bear fading, staring after her, until it was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

* * *

It didn't take long to reach the Proving Grounds.

Ahri crouched low with her comrades over a ridge that had a view of the lone bridge that was the Proving Grounds. Caitlyn had drawn up behind them, with Fiora sitting back on the flattest rock she could find, checking her nails.  
"Seems clear," Caitlyn murmured, her trained eyes sweeping over the scene with expert detail. "But I don't see any enemy troops."

The sheriff bit her lip, uncertain.

"I don't like it." Caitlyn jerked her head over to the rest of her men. "The rest of you lot get down. I'll provide overwatch. Ahri, Fiora, that means you, too."

Fiora rose wordlessly, escorted by a rank of snipers, while Ahri turned to pat Caitlyn on the shoulder.  
"We're counting on you."  
"I know. I'll follow you lot once you've cleared the bridge."

Ahri rose to follow the men down the spiral trail that led to the Proving Grounds. Already, five or six of them had made it down the ridge to the cobblestone steps that made up one entrance of the popular Institute area. Then one of them in the front stopped. He raised his hand, and everyone held their position.

Whee...

"...hey."

eee...

The sniper turned to look around.  
""Does anyone hear that whistling sound-" He was cut off as he took an arrow to the back of the head. The man toppled over, blood trailing from his head wound.  
"Enemy sniper!" One of men yelled, and everyone took cover behind something.

From the ridge above, Caitlyn saw the arrow, and immediately shifted her focus to where it came from. It was shot from the other side of the Proving Grounds... She shifted her sniper rifle to the general area, and leveled it at where she thought the shot came from. She had a good idea, but there were just so many hiding places. Caitlyn grit her teeth. She flipped over yet another set of magnifying lenses.

"Where are you, you wanker?" She muttered. She adjusted the lenses on her scope to search for the enemy.

Three of the men had taken cover behind a solid rock wall, sitting, their head covered so as to avoid the fire from the unknown enemy. But they were far from safe. Then, from that same place the arrow came from, a shining orb shot forwards. Ahri, now with the rest of the group, recognized it from her many ordeals in the central.

"Run!" She yelled, as the shining orb passed the wall the men were hiding behind, and planted itself only a few feet from the boots of the men. "It's going to blow!"  
The snipers reacted quickly, scattering from the orb, but it was too late; the orb exploded, launching the men off their feet. Dead or alive, no one had the time to tell.

"Forget t'is!" Fiora yelled, stepping nimbly out of her cover. "I won't be bled slowly! c'arge!"

She immediately drew fire, arrows grazed the duelist, while various forms of bright magic exploded all around her. Ahri and the rest of the men who could still move charged after her, weathering a barrage of projectile attacks. Soon a third type of attack started spewing from the ridge, lightning fast projectiles shaped with runic branches. One of the men was caught over the shoulder by one; he fell backwards, left to his own devices as his comrades charged forwards.

"Oh no you don't!" muttered Caitlyn. She laid down suppressing fire over the enemy's ridge, which reduced the rate of fire at which her friends took, but still more shots came flooding from the enemy nest while a few attacks were even aimed at her now.

Her rifle flicked, empty, and Caitlyn immediately drew another paper pouch of bullets from her hand, but as she did, an arrow short forwards, catching her in the hand and tearing her flesh and the pouch of bullets. The bullets scattered to the ground, while Caitlyn winced.  
"Only a flesh wound..." Caitlyn muttered, tearing the arrow's head out of her hand. Her eyes widened when the Sheriff looked upon the bloody arrow in her hands.

Ahri, Fiora, and but four snipers managed to make it to the other side of the Proving Grounds. Without Caitlyn's fire, they might have all been cut down. Ahri laid hands on her knees, almost gasping for breath; the men were winded, and even Fiora seemed to be breathing heavier.

"A'ri! The shield! Take it out!" Fiora gestured to the blue shield that sealed off the causeway from the Proving Grounds to the Institute Proper. "We 'ave no time!"

"But Cait!" Ahri turned to the ridge, which was now taking the full brunt of the enemy's force. Ahri could barely see the outline of the sheriff, who was shrinking back under the withering fire, only managing a few shots here and there.

Caitlyn rolled on her back, as another runic missile barely missed her. As she did, a pure white arrow seemingly made of ice tore into her hat. Cait caught her headgear as the arrow nearly took it off. She sighed, pulling the hat over her eyes.

"Hurry up and go, you tossers," Caitlyn muttered. "Looks like I'll be having my afternoon tea here." She loaded a flare into her gun, and shot it into the sky. The red trail spiral into the dark clouds above, leaving no doubt for the enemy snipers as to where she was now.

One of the snipers saw the signal.  
"That's the captain!" He shouted, pointing. "That's the signal to go!"  
Fiora turned sharply to Ahri, her hair whipping into place. The duelist's sharp eyes drilled into Ahri's soft black ones.  
"You 'ear t'at, fox-girl? We. Go."

Fiora's eyes softened and she took a step forwards. She surprised Ahri with a slim hand on her shoulder.

"Trust our friends, fox-girl."  
Ahri sighed in slight exasperation.  
"So you do have friends."  
"S'ut up and go."

Ahri nodded, then turned to the blue shield. She called up the Pheonix Sun with an image in her mind. As she did, an orb as brilliant as a second sun burned bright in her right palm. Fire trailed up her sleeve as massive amounts of magical floated off of the artifact in waves.

"Help me, Pheonix Sun."

Her raised her hands, and pushed the orb into the shield. With a brilliant white light, the magical artifact ground into the shield. Where the shield crumbled away burned white like the sun, and everyone turned away to shield their eyes from the light. Ahri closed her eyes, the light still managing to pour through her eyelids, until she could see only white.

"Come on... Phoenix!" She concentrated, the orb spun faster and with more strength to her will.

Then with a brilliant last flash, the shield broke through. A man-sized hole burned white along its edges in the blue protective shield of the Institute.

"Yes!"

And with that, the small band of allies slipped through the shield; even as it was already oozing back into place, healing. Caitlyn managed to catch glimpses of the brilliant white light from her ridge, and smiled when she saw her allies make it through. The sheriff of Piltover rolled on her back, looking up to the ugly, grey sky that hung above them.

"What a terrible day to die," She murmured.

* * *

From the enemy ridge, Ashe, frost archer of Freijord drew her wintery bow, setting another arrow of ice in it's mouth. Lux, Lady of Luminosity and Demacian mage of Light, spun her light rod in her slim hands. And Ezreal, the prodigal explorer from Piltover, readied his next round of missiles. As they did, black smoke bled off of their bodies, leaving sinister trails of corruption in the sniper's nest they had built.

Their will may have been dominated, but their aim was not. Each round fired was another round intended to kill. They could not let Caitlyn come down from that ridge alive.

Lux stepped fowards and fired a laser over the ridge that would have taken Caitlyn's head off at the neck if the sniper didn't roll away at the last nanosecond.

* * *

Caitlyn turned over, hoping for another look on the sniper's nest, but was driven back by another burst of attacks. Seems like Ashe's aim was the best. An arrow this time had grazed Caitlyn's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood that was rapidly turning into a tiny sheet of crimson on her face.

"Good luck, Ahri, love."

She turned over once more, and the barrage of fire took her hat clean off this time.


End file.
